Art review: John Sonsini at ACME
July 2, 2010 | 4:30
pm
The rugged construction and gentle sensitivity of the L.A. painter’s works give them a sense of down-to-earth innocence that never grows old. Openness and eagerness characterize all of Sonsini’s sitters, who also come off as being terribly vulnerable to forces beyond their control.
You want to know the stories behind the guys who stand alone, or in one case, side by side, in Sonsini’s pictures of everyday folks who make the workaday world go round.
All are on the go. “Pedro” shows up with a bicycle, “Jose Luis” ready to play in a mariachi band and “David” dressed for an amateur soccer match.
All are also waiting. Standing on street corners or sitting at bus stops, Sonsini’s figures are suspended in moments defined by anticipation. The hope of good things to come is palpable, as is the wisdom that life can be cruel.
“Luis,” with hands in pockets, is at once nervous and nonchalant. With his backpack at his feet, he tries to look as if he’s ready for anything when his expression suggests that he’s smart enough to know that he’s not. “Cesar,” with luggage and boxes piled at his side, is not as youthful as Luis. Yet his expression conveys enough suffering and yearning to fill a few lifetimes.
Intimacy and distance — and the mysteriousness of identity — are Sonsini’s great subjects. His acutely observed and muscularly brushed paintings bring strangers up close and personal yet never violate anyone’s privacy.
This has a lot to do with what Sonsini does with perspective. All of his figures recede in space: Their feet are larger and closer to viewers, their heads slightly yet significantly more distant. This shift makes the men he portrays seem familiar and enigmatic, at once part of a viewer’s world and apart from it.
Sonsini’s paintings go far beyond capturing the humanity of unique individuals. His unforgettable works are also compressed essays that track the migration of the American Dream from past generations of immigrants to similar working-class people seeking to make better lives for themselves today.
The hopes and aspirations that have made America great live on in Sonsini’s radically democratic art. There’s no better way to start the Fourth of July weekend than by visiting this magnificent exhibition, which closes Saturday.
– David Pagel
ACME, 6150 Wilshire Blvd., L.A., (323) 857-5942, ENDS SATURDAY. www.acmelosangeles.com
Images: "Jose Louis" (top) and "Cesar." Photo credit: Robert Wedemeyer.









I accidentally walked into this show after seeing the extraordinary Kenton Nelson show at Peter Mendenhall’s gallery. Maybe I was on another plane when I looked at John Sonsini’s work, I didn’t see the diversity the reviewer did. If I remember correctly every painting was the same size, pose, and model. Sometimes an artist repeats a way of drawing something so I could be mistaken, but there seemed like a deliberate attempt by the artist to be emotion free with the blank expressions better to let the viewers bring there own emotional interpretations to the viewing experience. The reviewer sure did!
I’m not putting down the artist work I loved the fact it was a brushy representational (if cartooned) style. Something I’m well versed in. I’m just in awe of the reviewer ability to see so much more that I could.
Posted by: william wray | July 02, 2010 at 08:47 PM
I like(d) Sonsini's work - especially the first time I saw them like 10 years ago. Since then they are basically EXACTLY the same. He hasn't grown as an artist or diverged with his subject matter in all that time. His gallery should really step in and let him know he's going to grow stale (although I think he already has).
Posted by: Don Wimble | July 03, 2010 at 09:28 AM
Do you think the Gallery might want him to repeat? Isn’t that one of the paths to success to be known for one iconic image? I also wonder if it’s a way not to be pegged as an illustrator who is telling too much story?
Posted by: william wray | July 03, 2010 at 01:07 PM
I like how Sonsini treats the props (suitcases in one, a guitar in the other) with an egalitarian feel in their relation to the main figure in each painting.
It is like the props have a identity of their own.
Posted by: john grant | July 07, 2010 at 10:55 PM