Art Report Today and Michael Delgado present a rowdy talk with artist James Hayward, who discusses Art Making, Painting, the Damnable Present and his pals Chris Burden, James Turrell, John Baldessari and John McCracken. A California native, Hayward shares intimate details of his work and philosophies.

The snowfall may have paused for the moment in Telluride, but Earth’s processes never stop. Volcanic peaks protrude above fresh powder, evidence of the natural world — and the violence — that shaped the box canyon millions of years before it became a Mecca for humans attached to plexigas boards, skimming groomed slopes.

A show at the Telluride Gallery of Fine Art presents the work of three artists from Southern California, a place where mountains, deserts, oceans and the forces that shaped them are ever-present.

By Christopher Knight

A dozen James Hayward monochrome abstract paintings, most made in the last two years, create a ravishing exhibition at Roberts & Tilton gallery in Culver City. The show is capped by something that, to my knowledge, is new to the artist — an installation work.

By Eve Wood

Red-on-red is difficult to pull off, yet James Hayward makes it work beautifully in his most recent survey entitled “At Last” at Roberts & Tilton where an entire room is painted red to showcase his very dense red paintings. And that’s just the side gallery. Throughout the exhibit, lush and loosely rendered, these mostly red, black and white abstractions are so seductive in their presence they practically call you toward them in a deep sonorous whisper. Paint, thickly and heavily layered, gives these works their power and strength, wherein each brushstroke becomes its own significant gesture within the framework of the entire image. As a whole the exhibition stands as living testament to gestural abstraction as only James Hayward can deliver and own.

By Matthew Hart

“'Patriotic Humanitarian!' That should be the title of the article!” James Hayward, outfitted in blue jeans and a white ten-gallon hat, leads us around the grounds of his Moorpark ranch. He has a six-shooter in his right hand and a lit joint dangling from his pursed lips. The ground below his shoes crunches and crumbles as he serves up his slice of the American Dream.

Bu Tulsa Kinney

Los Angeles painter James Hayward taught a USC graduate seminar in 1987. That was my introduction to him. He wasn’t much of a teacher, but he sure was a talker. He sat in a chair front and center in the classroom with his legs stretched wide open. When he would get excited by his own tall tales (which was most of the time), his long skinny legs would begin to flap back and forth wildly in rhythm to his lilting voice which got faster, louder and higher when reaching the climax of the story. He told stories about Richard Serra, John Baldessari, Brice Marden and Max’s Kansas City. With his good looks and charm, he could brighten up any dull opening. He’s an unassuming cowboy with the manners of a true gentleman, but he can also tell a vulgar joke with the verve of a drunken sailor.