Showing through October 21st at Freight + Volume in the LES, Samuel Jablon's "Unstung" signals a radical departure in the artist's work.

Comfort Can Fuck Itself, 2018, acrylic and oil on canvas, 48h x 48w in

Through October 21st
Freight + Volume in the LES
Samuel Jablon, Unstung 

By JEFFREY GRUNTHANER, October, 2018

Due to the way language materializes and dematerializes within his oeuvre, Jablon is often identified as a poet-painter. It has perhaps been noted less to what extent Jablon is actually something of a conceptualist. Previous bodies of work used glass and sequins very elaborately—a process the artist came to feel was too laborious. “I reached a point where using the same materials felt like work,” Jablon told me. “I felt as if I was going to work...cutting glass, laying it down, and gluing it to the surface.” The use of those materials gave his work a kind of sculptural fixity. With Unstung, however, form and color are unloosed from anything apart from the sheer expressivity of paint on canvas.

Eat Disasters, 2018, acrylic and oil on canvas, 24h x 20w in 

This transformation didn't come out of the blue; Jablon's current paintings seem like the inevitable outcome of a long developmental process. But I couldn't help but wonder if any personal experience motivated him to adopt a new kind of working method. "My work is always a reaction to my life," explains Jablon. "I went through some drama, some asshole hit me with a bottle, and it changed my outlook on a lot of things. But I don't think it necessarily was the root cause for change in the work; it was more of a catalyst."
 

Washed By Sun, 2018, acrylic and oil on canvas, 24h x 20w in
 

Unlike previous shows, where each painting was a single poem in itself, Unstung maps out a wholisitc poem. This pervasive sense of wholeness speaks to a corresponding integrity underlying Jablon’s new creative process. What I’ve always liked best about Sam’s work is the way the act of painting words becomes framed as a sort of gestural line. The phrases he paints are something like a landscape, indicating ideas without actually representing them. Is it possible that future bodies of work might abandon language altogether? “The works always start out as abstract grounds,” he notes in answer to my question. “I've thought about doing shows with them, but I always get bored with them. The language keeps things fresh for me. I’m into ideas about erasure and erasing the language. I could see a series of those.” WM