When I entered Leo Frontini’s figure show On the Corner Of, on view in the Chelsea neighborhood of Manhattan until March 22nd at Albertz Benda, I knew in about 15 seconds that I would write a review.

I have been awestruck by the phenomenal reemergence of figurative art in New York’s hot gallery scene. America’s broad cultural shift — or “vibe shift,” as some in the media call it — has manifested in the arts as a rejection of cold, alienating, cynical and often conceptual art and an embrace of old methods, old masters and passionate narrative arcs. Frontini’s paintings and copper etching prints are a recent example of this impressive and long-overdue trend.

Frontini’s journey

Frontini, 24, is one of many artists who did not master painting until after art school. He taught himself to paint during the COVID lockdown by watching instructional videos by figurative artists Steve Huston, Colleen Barry and Will St. John. Many artists, including myself, feel disappointed by the incredibly low standards employed in most American art schools and the resulting degradation of the Western figurative tradition.

While Frontini did not learn to paint during art school because he majored in digital media, he still remarked on the low quality of his college’s fine arts program when we spoke.

The self-taught artist who overcomes the deficits of their college education is the hero of figure paint today. These champions push figure painting forward while keeping traditional methods and motifs alive, not because they are expected to, but because they sincerely want to.

While art schools mix reverence for the past with derision for our supposedly evil ancestors, Frontini obsessively embraces the techniques, discipline and beauty sought out by the great masters of art history without reservation. He is especially enamored with the dramatic, high-contrast lighting and highly refined but luscious paint strokes characteristic of the Baroque period.

If one were to zoom into specific sections of his paintings, one could imagine looking at something right out of the 17th century. However, a full view shows a use of bold colors and broad shapes more closely associated with Modernism.

Underneath the sheen and glisten on the surface of Frontini’s paintings shine stories that are both relatable and mysterious. His work is highly confessional of his personal narrative, which includes powerful feelings of despair, isolation, nostalgia and hopefulness. This level of vulnerability is characteristic of Gen Z’s emotional openness and the journey of self-discovery many 24-year-olds are on.

It is no surprise, given the emotional intensity of Frontini’s work, that one of his Baroque heroes is Caravaggio, who some think expressed his tumultuous inner life using the intense style and biblical motifs common in Baroque art. Nor is it unexpected that Frontini finds inspiration from the famously tortured Van Gogh, whose Starry Night inspired Frontini’s Soliloquy of a sleepless night.

Frontini’s magical wonderland universe

Frontini creates a magical wonderland universe that looks like the illustrations from great children’s books without whitewashing the uglier aspects of our preadult lives. Soliloquy was immediately emotionally impactful when I encountered it upon entering the gallery.

While it was initially unclear precisely what the painting was about, I felt sympathy for the sullen boy sitting alone near the center of the painting because of his depressed mood and the chaos that surrounded him. He reminded me of myself as a teenager.

When I read that the painting was about the “bitter trauma” associated with family breakdown, I began to cry because I come from a dysfunctional family. On a subconscious level, I had already known what the painting was about. Frontini later shared with me that he was a child of divorce.

Even though Frontini’s paintings are highly symbolic and illusionary — almost like M.C. Escher’s work — there is something literal about their symbolism. Perhaps that is why they are both perplexing and understandable. The image of the broken home is quite literal, with exploding houses in Soliloquy, figures bursting through walls in Ouverture, homes being carried like doll houses by giant humans in Contemperance Beyond Repetition and distorted, twisted walls throughout various other paintings.

Esoteric paintings

The most esoteric of Frontini’s paintings are Whimpering Whisper of Winter and Covalence. Covalence creates a sense that mystical knowledge is being revealed through beams of light, a broken pattern in a reflection and red spheres that float around two birds dueling at the bottom of the painting. The spheres (perhaps a reference to atoms given the title) are especially mystical, as though a little piece of magic from a Hilma af Klint painting were dropped into Frontini’s work.

The painting brings to mind the mystical experiences discussed by the psychologist William James in his seminal book The Varieties of Religious Experience. James describes ineffability and noesis as two of the four qualities associated with religious experiences. Is the painting about a deeply important connection, especially given the title? Is it about an ineffable experience of the revelation of mystical knowledge? Some paintings are not meant to be understood analytically or linguistically. They are meant to be felt and seen. Perhaps poetry can do them justice, but certainly not prose.

Less cosmic than Covalence, Whimpering touches on the earthly theme of winter. Toes are nuzzled between radiator fins as the brumal spirit enters the home like a gentle gust of wind. Many modern, secular humans have lost touch with life’s big, eternal themes, which include natural cycles like seasons.

Many Westerners hardly even feel a connection to the cyclical nature of reality at all, let alone think about our relationship with nature (outside of our social obligation to “recycle”) or personify its elements as our wise, ancient ancestors did. Something so intuitive for them has become so unnatural for us.

Clean up those edges!

The only negative thing I have to say is that some of Frontini’s edges could be cleaned up a little. As an old art teacher used to say during critique, “Clean up those edges!” I believe in clean edges when a painting is unframed. When a painting is not framed, the edges become the frame. They give the product a strong sense of completion and professional presentation.

Great art expresses something meaningful about life. Frontini’s psychedelic homescapes capture how truly formative our difficult childhood experiences are and how profoundly they shape us as adults. His journey of self-discovery and introspection reflects our experiences just as much as his, tapping into the tumults, tremors and transformations that surround our hardships.

[Avery Ewing edited this piece.]

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Fair Observer’s editorial policy.