It didn't seem possible to successfully combine the whiplash dribbles of Jackson Pollack with the emblems of comic art until Don Sorenson came along.

The young L.A. artist debuts with about 10 large, ropy, abstract paintings. To get an imperfect idea of their appearance, imagine zig-zag patterns of comic lightning bolts intertwined with writhing intestinal forms.

Processed together with cut-out pieces, the pictures strike exactly the right note during a period of general artistic tepidity. They express all the campy sleaze of Hollywood Blvd.'s flakiness and schizophrenic energy. They are also unmistakably fine art of a high order with a strange, beautifully undefinable compositional understructure.

Sorenson, to me, is the most promising artist to appear hereabouts in a couple of years.

(Nicholas Wilder Gallery, 82251/2 Santa Monica Blvd., to Feb. 10)

William Wilson
Times Art Writer
—Los Angeles Times,
February, 1975




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