Dana Schutz

Contemporary Fine Arts presents The Department, Dana Schutz's seventh solo show with the gallery. The presentation includes a selection of paintings and drawings recently shown in her exhibition Trouble and Appearance (2026) at the Graphische Sammlung in Munich's Pinakothek der Moderne, alongside new works in oil on canvas and charcoal on paper.

People struggle with the tasks before them, turning apparently organised activities into unpredictable events. The distance between what someone sets out to do and what actually happens provides fertile ground for the artist's imagination. Comedy often has an uneasy undertone, since a failed undertaking can leave those involved at the mercy of circumstances beyond their understanding.

A department suggests a small group assigned to manage something that might otherwise escape control. Here, those entrusted with such responsibilities appear ill equipped to fulfil them. Incompetence becomes a starting point for considering how a familiar situation could go wrong, or what remains of a collective endeavour when its participants lose their bearings. The title also carries an association with departure, as though a unit might detach itself from a larger organisation. That sense of separation extends to the body in Hurt Hand (2026), where an injured limb seems to float independently of its owner. A wound unsettles the connection between a person and a part of themselves.

The painting that lends the show its name (The Department, 2026) places its inhabitants in a dugout within a conflict zone, surrounded by weapons from different eras. Their conduct offers little reassurance: some seem debased, others unable to contain themselves. On the left, a deathlike presence watches a turtle; a grenade occupies the right. Between the animal's slow pace and the prospect of an imminent explosion, incompatible measures of time coexist. Nearby, someone attends to a phone from which a blast appears to emerge. Absorption in the screen seems at odds with the seriousness of the surroundings. Overhead, drones acquire an insectlike quality, and military technology assumes an eerie resemblance to living creatures.

Schutz approaches a group of pictures as a collection of short stories. Each has its own premise, while proximity allows meanings to develop between them. These are not episodes in a continuous account, nor variations on a single motif. A shared concern can pass from a social predicament to an individual dilemma without determining the outcome. The Health (2026), for instance, recalls a public institution charged with our wellbeing but opens onto the personal effort to optimise oneself. Its exaggerated anatomy brings the inside out. The pursuit of improvement produces a distorted figure, as though the desire for a better self had become impossible to contain.

An initial division shaped The Ceremony (2026). A tree separates two areas, creating a problem of how to relate the proceedings on either side. One suggests a reception, the other a burial, although neither fulfils its expected function with dignity. Things surface from the earth beneath an apple tree that evokes knowledge. An apple balanced on a woman's head introduces another reference: the dangerous feat associated with William Tell. The possibility of shooting it makes a deliberate gesture seem foolishly reckless. Monkeys occupy the branches, while fallen fruit rots below. With disorder above and decay underneath, the occasion is compromised at every level. The promise of a ritual survives, even as the scene threatens to undermine it.

Such passages between everyday awkwardness and something almost mythical develop through the act of painting. Schutz may begin with a word, or simply a feeling, without knowing what the eventual image will become. Decisions arise from what is happening on the canvas, where a relationship can change as it takes shape. Blindfolded Couple (2026) began with a question about the atmosphere of the present. Its protagonists are visible to others but cannot see, a condition that leaves them vulnerable to humiliation. Whether they recognise their exposure remains uncertain; their attention rests on finding each other through touch.

During its making, the embrace could have developed into a wrestling match, with the pair pushing against one another. By the end, their tentative steps suggested a ‘pas de deux'. Intimacy depends on a negotiation that neither partner can fully anticipate, and the spectator witnesses an encounter whose subjects cannot return the gaze. This imbalance brings tenderness to an uncomfortable situation. Their cautious movement also points to an intangible dimension of Schutz's imagery: a posture can carry the suggestion of a whisper or a shuffle. Imagined sound enters an otherwise silent space, extending the action beyond what is immediately visible.

The Beauty (2026) stages a more troubling display around a large odalisque. A small man, acidic in colour and suggestive of the sun, holds a mirror before her. Reflecting the sky, it also resembles an abstract plane or a glass palette. The sharp edge appears to slice across her, interrupting the expansive softness of her form. She seems to descend like a sunset, her face dissolving into clouds. A hand reaches into water and hints at the subconscious. Sensuality becomes difficult to separate from disappearance as flesh takes on the qualities of the surrounding landscape.

Questions of perception turn inward in the new charcoal Self-Portrait (2026). Returning to a subject she has explored before, Schutz considers her own position at a moment when ideas are still forming. Naked against rocky terrain, she stands with one foot planted and the other suspended in midair. The precarious stance makes uncertainty palpable. Representing herself exposes an activity usually conducted in private. The artist shares the tension between seeing and being seen that runs through the exhibition, entering the frame with no greater assurance than anyone else.

Drawing offers a particular speed of response. Marks can push an area back or draw it forward, so that the sheet evolves through successive revisions. This immediacy feeds into the paintings, just as discoveries in oil inform the works on paper. Careful brushwork gives colour an expressive force of its own. The palette responds to the subject's mood, moving between vivid intensity and softer passages according to the atmosphere each composition requires.

Encountering these works involves a corresponding adjustment of distance. Some assert themselves across the gallery; others ask for close inspection and reveal details that alter an earlier impression. Visitors move backwards and forwards, responding through their bodies to the demands of the images. Together, the pieces project distinct voices that shift in volume as we pass from one to another. Their interplay produces a choral effect, and the title acquires a further meaning. A department may promise coordinated action, yet this assembly draws its strength from contributions that retain their independence. What holds them together is an exchange that no single member could produce alone.

—Nicolas Vamvouklis