TJ McNamara: Burning bright in the mind

An old maestro and a bright young talent with exhibitions at almost adjacent galleries both exploit the undefined image that stimulates the imagination without specifically directing it. Both also feel the need to underpin this apparent obscurity with clear structure or detail.

Max Gimblett has a show at the Gow Langsford Gallery until June 28 which is not a wide departure from his previous work. It continues his use of spectacular gestures based on, and inspired by, his ink drawings contrasting with the severe, geometric structure that supports them. There are also his familiar fields of colour in thick resin that wash across shapes in dimly perceived waves.

The works are filled with the artist's extraordinary energy, but there is a distancing at work and no hint of narrative. They have been made or, better, given birth to, and then sent out for the buyers, viewers, gallery-goers to fill with their own imagination.

Their presence invites meditation. The thoughts of the viewer are at least as important as the thought of the painter, though the making was his alone.

One feature of this show by Gimblett, who is based in New York but returns to New Zealand with a show each year, is how the scale of each work is exactly suited to its colour and form. One Stroke Bone is a large circular work on a fine canvas - the support for each Gimblett work is carefully chosen, too - with a void in the centre. It was used in the show's opening invitation and looked like a cleverly designed CD, but the actuality is a work of bold grandeur, a colossal outburst of energy caught and held in the circular shape. It dominates one wall of the gallery.

By contrast there is a small work, Rib, no more than half a metre across with intersecting, compass-designed arcs that match their copper colour to the work's red field. It is an absolute gem. There is a larger work, Greenland, using the same design where the arcs dance rhythmically in gold on a deep green ground that demands more size.

Geometry does not prevail everywhere. A large, oval work called Tiger is aggressive red, energised by movement within its polished surface and confined only by its edge.

Colour alone is not always convincing. The three tablets that make up St George and the Dragon are rich but too simple to give the imagination enough to feed on. Small cavils aside, this is an exhibition by a mature master with a persuasive vision.

The paintings of Richard Lewer at Oedipus Rex Gallery until June 23 are much more distinctly autobiographical. The painter is making obscure road maps into his own history and personality and hoping viewers will find them visually interesting enough to follow the winding way into them.

A feature of the work are large, peculiarly shaped, indeterminate blobs whose colour and oddity reinforce the sense of uncertain but emotional memory.

The exhibition begins with a simple painting of a house on a black background with some of these odd, hovering shapes. It is not much of a painting but it does show the painter's origins and has a kind of iconic quality in its provincial New Zealand spirit.

What leads to much better, more effective, subsequent work is the presence, alongside these areas of protoplasm, of little images in sharp detail. These become important in most of the paintings and give them a special quality as they work alongside areas of dramatic light and shade.

Areas of dark are particularly effective in Do You Mind Helping Me?, a work that has a large, black portal rising up through the work which is at once menacing and enveloping.

Another feature typical of Lewer's work is where passages of the work are dotted with what look like holes. In previous paintings they were real holes and the artist did his work on pegboard, thumbing his nose at conventional surfaces. Now the painted holes look like the effect of the shot and shell of life and are much more convincing as metaphor.

The small, detailed images alongside the dripping presence of undefined areas give tension to the best works. In these areas of detail there are such things as a small cat in The First Cut is the Deepest, an image like the Flying Dutchman, or at least his ship, in White Trash and Boats and, in several works a fair-isle pullover such as the one David Bain wore and the artist once had. These things contribute to the sense of menace running through the work as well as intimations of memory.

There are also bits of lettering, mostly unnecessary. A fine touch in the work Glimmer of Hope is a light through a distant window. It movingly suggests hope so nobody needs a little message to that effect.

On the other hand, there are passages that show a considerable ability to handle paint to create atmosphere, notably in the hills and declivities of White Trash and Boats and the impressive, reaching arch of Daddy, Daddy Wait for Me, easily the most impressive work in a show that leaves behind a good deal of the crass baggage of Lewer's earlier paintings and begins to fulfil his considerable potential.