There is a remarkable exhibition of paintings on display at the Art Gallery of Ontario that may not be considered a blockbuster show, but still deserves far more attention than it appears to be getting. Called , it consists of works by some of the world's most well known artists of an era that has sadly passed. There are also works by younger artists, who have rediscovered color field art, so named by the late New York art critic, Clement Greenberg, whose writings were both famous and infamous.

To some, is a show that evokes nostalgia, but for a younger generation it should evoke curiosity. At the same time it should awaken a thirst for the permanence of the art of putting paint on canvas rather than the creation of impermanence through installations that are alive only for the brief time allowed in an exhibition.

Robert Motherwell - Open No. 149, 1970

This show presents works that come from a time when artists were very much concerned with color and how it affected the viewer. An 83-year-old Henri Matisse said in 1952, "Colors win you over more and more. A certain blue enters your soul. A certain red has an effect on your blood pressure. A certain color has a tonic effect. A new era is opening."

The artists who were part of this new era, a concentrated period during the 1950s and early '60s, still painted abstractly, yet their work seemed calmer and more reflective than abstract expressionism. They may have had social concerns, but their art expressed these with subtle finesse rather than the kind of punch in the face that much of today's art self-indulgently and self-consciously levels at audiences.

(Below: Mark Rothko - No. 1, White and Red, 1962

The idea of color being a primary expression, devoid of drawing, began much earlier than the era of color field art. It can be said to have its origins in the 1930s when a still young Mark Rothko stated that the
"[T]radition of starting with drawing [is] an academic notion. We may start with color." But it wasn't just color that united the artists slotted by us into the color field; they were concerned with space within an artwork, and how a viewer perceived it.

Of course, the color field artists were not spared public outrage. How often have viewers leveled "well, I could have painted that" at them when they looked at these seemingly simple works. Just think back to that red painting, The Voice of Fire, by Barnett Newman at the National Gallery of Canada. The uproar was huge. But, eh, try and paint some of those paintings and you'll discover that painting like that isn't quite so simple, nor is it simplistic—a label occasionally applied to it—and nor is mockery of the viewer intended. If visitors to should be tempted to utter an outcry they should remember that if they think they could paint any of the paintings, they first have to come up with the ideas that these artists had, the reasons for them, and then they have to have the skills to execute them.

The AGO' curator of contemporary art, David Moos, has picked some very fine works from the gallery's own collection, from other galleries, and from some in private hands. He had a mere five months to put the show together, which shows itself through a few inconsistencies. Still, it is too bad it isn't going anywhere else. With some refinements it would make an excellent traveling show. It definitely deserves a wider audience.

As indicated, one isn't completely awed by what is being shown. There is Sol LeWitt's Wall Drawing #46 that consists of almost invisible pencil squiggles on one wall of the gallery. It is neither decorative, nor does it engage the mind because it is so subtle that most people just passed by it during the media viewing. Perhaps that is LeWitt's intention, but to me this work does not really belong in the color field genre. It is conceptual art. Color field art always evoked either joy or rage, but never indifference or bemusement, which this Wall Drawing does in spates. I am also not sure why Moos chose to include Charles Long's 3 to 1 in Groovy Green, which is really an audio-visual installation. Neither do I feel that the two Greg Curnoes belong in this show. But never mind the negatives, there are far more positives in the show to worry about them.

I have my favorites, of course, which I mention here in no particular order. There is Jules Olitski's large orange canvas, Patutsky in Paradise, 1966, which is actually on orange on a dark background washed over yellow to create a subtle fade-in effect. While the impact is startling, there is the joy of seeing color placed on top of another to great effect. Frank Stella's Hollis Frampton, 1963, consists of metallic paint on canvas. It is not just one color surface but several well delineated squares within squares working toward a centre that has been cut out. There are two works by Helen Frankenthaler, both of which offer fascinating images, but her Orange Breaking Through has a particularly strong impact. Another painting of strong impact, in part because of its size and in part because of its execution and color, is Robert Motherwell's Open No. 149, 1970. It might best be described as a light blue wash with black rectangles drawn over it. Jack Bush is represented in the show by Dazzle Red, 1965. It is indeed dazzling to see. And then there is Mark Rothko's No. 1, White and Red, 1962, which certainly holds the eye as does Dan Flavin's The Alternate Diagonals of March 2, 1964. The latter work consists of white neon tubes on a black background and is very different from the painterly works by the other artists. Also working in neon, but hidden behind Plexiglas, is the Canadian artist Robert Youds, born in 1954. His I Feel The Air of Another Planet, 2004 does with lighting what other artists did with paint on canvas. His colors fade into each other in painterly fashion that cannot help but draw pleasurable attention to the work.

Jules Olitski - Patutsky in Paradise, 1966

Surprisingly, there are quite a number of 'young' artists like Youds: those born at or after the time when color field art captured the imagination of North Americans. One refers here to North Americans because the genre that we now call color field art is specifically North American. I spent the first half of the 1960s in London and no one there painted that way. The likes of Bacon and Freud beckoned art conscious Londoners, and Hockney, just out of art school, began to draw attention, in part for his painting, but also for his bleached hair, his gold lamé jacket, and his choice of living in then unfashionable Notting Hill Gate. On returning home I caught the tail end of color field art, but discovered it too late because the art scene changed rapidly and pop art replaced it with a big wham.

All in all, there are 38 works in , including two sculptures. What is striking about this show, besides the force of color, is that the content of the exhibition has a feeling of newness to it despite its faded era. The exhibit also does something that one wishes could become a trend, namely that it mixes Canadian and American artists: 26 are American, a lone Briton (the sculptor Anthony Caro, who was one of the British artistic lions in the '60s. His piece, Cross Patch, consists of steel painted red, is for me, again, a bit out of place in this show), and nine are Canadians. It is great to see this mix of great Canadian and American art together in one show in which neither dominates the other. And that is why it is a shame this show isn't traveling across the border. It might draw attention to our artists, who need not take any backseat to their American cousins.