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Wednesday, October 06, 2004

Carnegie bound

 
Libby and I are off to Pittsburgh tomorrow to attend the opening of the Carnegie International, the 54th installation of that big show. This year's exhibit, like others I've seen over the years, should be great. If you've never gone, you might consider a trip. It's worth it.

Anyway, I interviewed the show's curator Laura Hoptman in September for an artnet piece that's up today. Hoptman, a lively risk-taking curator, commissioned new work from 28 of the 38 artists in the show! She got some surprises along the way, she says. By the way, Hoptman, who previously was at MOMA, curated the great "Drawing Now" exhibit in 2002.
permanent link  roberta 2:59 PM
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Continental congress at First Friday

 
We bring you a new approach to intercontinental congress. Artist Buster Simpson took this photo of African delegates meeting George Washington at First Friday. The Africans--some of them also appear in the previous post--were in town to lend their talent to the Art Museum's show, "African Art, African Voices."

George Washington was an actor participating in Simpson's installation of Windsor chairs made from wooden pallets at Temple Gallery in Old City (see Roberta's posts here and here). The regalia was splendid all around.
permanent link  libby 1:19 PM
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Out of Africa

 
For a good long think about how museums sanctify art and what kinds of art they sanctify, I recommend the "African Art, African Voices: Long Steps Never Broke a Back" exhibit at the Philadelphia Museum of Art.

The show deviates somewhat from the standard vitrine and text approach, and those deviations make all the difference in enlivening--and allowing to breathe--the objects from several African cultures, their rituals and their ways of life.

The show, an adaptation of a show at the Seattle Art Museum, was drawn primarily from Seattle's collection of several sub-Saharan cultures. Part of what makes this show so special however is it relies on advisors from each of the cultures to bring the objects to life. The advisors supply information about the objects and their contexts; some of them played a part in the selection of what got shown (image above right, Lamidi Ayankunle--in blue--with other African visitors at the press opening; Ayankunle, a Yoruban, coordinates the performances of his extended family of dancers, masqueraders, drummers and singers and is heard on the audio tour).

The advisors' words, along with their portraits and brief resumes, are posted on the wall and recorded on the show's audioguide (which is free), thereby lending the show authority and authenticity.

The story of one of the informants or advisors provides a window into what's special about this show. Kakuta Hamisi, a Maasai anthropology student working at the Seattle Art Museum in 1999, was dissatisfied with the museum's Maasai objects and their documentation. So he arranged for his people to select a truly representative group of Maasai objects (jewelry shown left, its round shape representing the universe in a circular form). Hamisi documented each object by interviewing the donors and videotaping them. Those efforts--the objects, their documentation and the video are on view at the exhibit.

The show includes a number of other video projections. The videos alone are worth the price of admission, but in combination with the objects, they become even more meaningful and vice versa. The video of the Africans dancing, for example, enlivens the displayed masquerade costumes by showing how the costumes are used (image right: video of dancers above, some of their costumes below).,

But finally, for me, the thing that brought this show into even stronger relief were the two rooms of contemporary African art, which is so very influenced by Western ideas that, if it weren't so good, it would have been depressing.

The bottom line is the modern African artists -- and African artists in diaspora -- have taken our Western traditions of precious objects hanging on walls and transformed them, mixing them with African values and strategies and making them their own.

Of the traditional objects, I was thoroughly impressed by the Mande hunter's shirts, leather tunics decorated with things like animal teeth, horns, shells, amulets and strip-woven cloth suggest the wearer's power and knowledge of nature. The wearers of these shirts--loners, essentially, are larger than life, heroic and fearsome, said Pamela McCluskey, the Seattle Art Museum's curator who organized the show in Seattle and here and who spent part of her life in Nigeria (image left, hunter's vest, 20th century, strip-weave cloth, horns, cotton twine, leather, amulets).

The masks look quite different from the ones that inspired Picasso because the ones in the exhibit are dressed. The austere wooden form beneath the cowrie shells and raffia are what inspired the cubist and modernist artists, but the Africans use those forms as a base on which to add caps, hair, whatever will bring the masks to life (image right, Ga Wree Wree Mask, early 20th century, Dan, Liberia, Guinea and Côte d'Ivoire; wood, cloth, bells, leopard teeth, hairpins, cowry shells, and twine, 19 ¾ inches).

The display of objects for the most part eschews vitrines except when needed to protect small, portable objects. This unmediated view of the work is an enormous improvement over the usual museum display, because these objects are not meant to be precious, as in preserved in amber. One of the points of the exhibit is that African art is used and functional--either as part of rituals or somehow otherwise incorporated in life.

Most of the contemporary work I had never seen before.

The exceptions were from Nigerian-born Yinka Shonibare, who has work up at the Fabric Workshop right now; South African William Kentridge, whose work we drool over on a regular basis; and photographer Samuel Fosso, a Camaroonian whose work I mentioned recently in a post about the Studio Museum in Harlem. Shonibare's "Nuclear Family" (left) at the Art Museum is more powerful than what's at the Fab, and the museum's audioguide gives you a chance to listen to him talking about it.

Just to mention a few of the artists who were new to me, Kwesi Owusu-Ankomah's "Off My Back" (right) merges Western culture's canvas with patterns inspired by traditional African decorative, mural painting techniques. The embedded figure's painted body camouflages him--a very different attitude from Western individualism.

Kenyan Allen deSouza's chromogenic prints on aluminum of set-up cityscapes have a heat-soaked exoticism. His "Everything West of Here is Indian Country" raises the issue of who gets to define what civilization is. I like this guy's sense of humor.

I thought I'd put up an image of Twins Seven Seven's "Sea Ghosts 3" (left) ink on plywood, just because I liked it and I had a decent image; the artist is Nigerian.

The photograph of the sugar cane cutter (right) by South African photographer Zwelethu Mthethwa shocked me with the subject's personal power and made me think back to the hunter's shirts, even though he is not a hunter.

A bunch of commercial photographs from Mali by Malick Sidibe are full of wit and visual charm (left, "Untitled [Three Girls and a Baby]").

The contemporary art shown reflects a great variety of practice, from prints to carved wood and stone, to cast resin. It will certainly disabuse you of any notion that Africa is a sleepy backwater. And the traditional pieces will disabuse you of any notion that there's no culture in Africa. It's rich with cultures.

I guess I really loved this show, and I hope everyone and his brother gets a chance to see it.
permanent link  libby 1:00 PM
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Handmade Judd

 
Post from Astrid Bowlby

For an amazing exhibition of what you might call a "color field" painter, I highly recommend Kevin Finklea's show at Pentimenti (image, "Empty Pages #1). [Editor's note: while you're going to Pentimenti, why not stop in at Becker for a color-field painter comparison?]

Also [in response to Libby's post]:

Donald Judd's sculptures are not factory made. It would be more appropriate to call them workshop made, and it is important to note that they were made by highly skilled individuals.

To say factory made conjures up an assembly line, as in car manufacturing, but this is not the case with his work. I recommend the ARTFORUM Summer 2004 issue for more on Judd's work and process.

--contributor and artist Astrid Bowlby shows at Gallery Joe.
permanent link  libby 10:59 AM
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Tuesday, October 05, 2004

Brilliant color, sweet memorials at Highwire

 
[Note: artblog editors have paired these two posts about Highwire's current show to expedite their posting.]



Post by Aly Gibson

Highwire Gallery’s current two-person exhibit includes Antonio Grimaldi’s brilliant colored landscape paintings which light up the room and Kt Carney’s life-size sculptures of average, working class Americans. I especially enjoyed the latter. (image is Grimaldi's "Rumbling Clouds,")

Carney creates her sculptures using steel, wire and in some cases, found objects. She accompanies each sculpture with the subject’s obituary to show her viewers that although these people led seemingly insignificant lives, they were content, passionate about their work and cherished by those who knew them. Carney succeeds in showing appreciation for individuals we rarely notice.

--Aly Gibson is a student in Colette Copeland's art writing class at the University of Pennsylvania

Post by Elizabeth Yohlin

The inspiration for Kt Carney’s steel gestural sculptures of deceased individuals engaging in their favorite tasks comes from actual obituaries, from which the artist creates identities for the deceased based on their described attributes. Her sculptures are poignant memorials, which evoke a fondness for the subjects and create an awareness that ultimately the memory of every person will be characterized by the mundane.



Particularly noteworthy are the portrayals of Elizabeth Atzert and Pearl Buzarth. Elizabeth, a ribbon maker, is playfully seated on the floor with outstretched arms and legs. A long red ribbon is gracefully draped over her arms, providing an interesting contrast to the gnarled steel that comprises her form.

Pearl is an especially significant presence among the sculptures, as she towers over the viewers. Her name, crafted in steel is inscribed upon her maid uniform. Her dress is skillfully constructed, emphasizing the pleats in her skirt and depicting the geometric forms that are the foundation of real objects.


Pearl’s obituary hangs on the wall next to her and reads: “She was known for the lovely ironing work she did.” Thus, she hovers over an actual ironing board, her sculpted hand clutching a real iron.

The juxtaposition between found objects and the sculptural apparitions of the deceased alludes to the permanence of objects, despite the demise of people.

--Elizabeth Yohlin is a student in Colette Copeland's art writing class at the University of Pennsylvania
permanent link  libby and roberta 6:03 PM
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Pause for pink

 
Here it is October and even before the leaves are changing colors the water in the fountain at Love Park is.

I give you pink water. Pure as cotton candy and mighty fine. Seems to hold its own against that slice of blue sky in the background. Every once in a while something like this reinforces my desire to stay in Philadelphia. How weird and wonderful to have a mayor who allocates money for pink and blue water. It must cost pennies and it keeps me smiling. It's just silly enough to lighten the daily load.

For point of comparison, see my post from June 12 in which there's a picture of the fountain waxing blue.
permanent link  roberta 2:08 PM
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Sculpture explosion at Bridgette's, Part 1

 
I love interactive sculpture. There's something about putting my body on the line in the duty of art that appeals to the art soldier in me.

Thus, when I stepped into Bridgette Mayer gallery Friday night and found objects that called out for my touch -- something I wasn't expecting -- I was a happy girl. Mayer, who usually shows wall-based paintings and prints pulled out all the stops for this, her first foray into exhibiting sculpture.

It's a four-person show, with work by Scot Kaplan, Brant Ritter, Mike Stifel and Scott White. I'll talk about Kaplan's work first and save comments on Ritter, Stifel and White's work for another post.

Scot Kaplan's "R21" is a threatrical set piece that involves two connected interrogation booths that have the look and feel of the real thing. One room is a sterile white box with a mirror, a table and chair. The other is a dark office loaded with multiple computers and cameras. At the opening, Kaplan played the interrogator and I hopped into the white box, ready for my grilling. (top image is from inside my half of R21. Right is the surveillance equipment in the other half.)

It was hot in there and the few moments I sat facing myself in the two-way mirror while Kaplan set up his equipment gave me ample time to consider how these things work in the real world. I snapped a few pictures and knew that my time in the box would be short-lived. But what if that door was locked and I was prevented from getting out? What if this encounter were to have consequences beyond "art?" Had I done anything recently that I needed to worry about in our Ashcroftian homeland? Any unpaid parking tickets? Any red lights I slid through that somebody caught on video? How about those two "Notice of Baggage Inspection" cards placed inside my suitcase by the TSA in the last two out of three of my trips by airplane. Is somebody watching me?

I've never been in a police interrogation room and usually I don't go into rooms without windows except to get out a coat or a pair of shoes. I thought about the children in Pepon Osorio's "Trials and Turbulence" installation at ICA and how they have encounters in box-like rooms with people trying to extract information from them. Those interviews may even be for the childrens' own good, but it probably doesn't feel like it. And of course I thought of Ilya Kabakov's theatrical installations that are all about the smallness and vulnerability of one in an inflexible, paranoia-fueled system.

Kaplan, professor of art at Ohio State University (via MFA at University of Pennsylvania and five years in New York) told me he created this piece to raise issues about the communication of information--that which is given freely and that which is extracted by other means. He wants to make viewers aware of what's going on in the world of spyware and what's permissible under things like the Patriot Act (a copy of which you can read right there in the gallery). (image is me fighting back with my camera)

The piece makes use of an intercom system between the two rooms. Push the "talk" button when speaking or you won't be heard. Kaplan, who kept his voice robotic and uninflected, asked me to state and spell my name. It was an inocuous question that started the journey. (button pictured below)

Then, courtesy his software program, "PRIVATE EYE," the artist told me my address, my husband's name, the names of some former neighbors. That was somehow not surprising, albeit a little troubling. We are all vulnerable to computer spying. It is just a matter of who's looking and for what.

Kaplan's questions got more interesting after that, getting into murkier, morally questioning territory as the artist/interrogator started asking me to pass judgment on some of the information he came up with.



Did I think my former neighbors were trustworthy? Was there any reason he shouldn't contact them...or my husband.

You can see where this is going -- right into the land of guilt and spill the beans. For not only is this an environment about two people, but it's an environment where one can tattle on others. By asking leading questions, some with an insinuating edge, the interrogator could unleash a confession that's far more than just the facts, ma'm. And indeed, Kaplan told me that in testing the piece out he'd found people ready to divulge plenty.

Outside the booth, Kaplan placed a wall of clipboards with information about spying ("how to" information if you're so inclined) and about citizens' rights (to protect yourself). I was told by the artist that during the course of the show viewers will be able to enter both sides of the confessional and participate as either interrogator -- or sinner.

I suggest a visit -- to experience both sides of the piece. The show's up to Oct. 30.
permanent link  roberta 8:48 AM
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Monday, October 04, 2004

Paint chips or art

 
Post by Avery Lawrence

[Editor's note: This is an additional comment--first post here by Lawrence's classmate Francisco Cadavid--on Joseph Marioni's exhibit of color-field paintings at Larry Becker Gallery.

I wondered if I could create the same effect with spray paint on my dorm room wall. It would be impossible, I decided, for each color elicits a hint of emotion and personality not easily achieved using haphazard methods. The eight paintings have a subtle complexity that electrifies the exhibit and elevates the experience to something more than just flipping through paint chips at the Home Depot (image, Marioni's "Red Painting").

permanent link  libby 5:52 PM
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Shall they dance

 
Post by Ainsley Adams

Through photographs, drawings, and promotional posters, "Nothing But Dance" at Artjaz Gallery celebrates the 35th anniversary of the Philadelphia dance company Philadanco. The work is by three artists with very different takes on how to express dance in still images.


Warm charcoal portraits of individual dancers in the nude by Vera
Grobes establish a sense of intimacy with the performers. These drawings impart the intense training required of the dancer, displaying their bodies' grace and beauty.

Deborah Boardman's photographs convey the rhythm and harmony of the
troupe dancing together (top image).


Finally, Alfred Turner Jr. documents the splendor and drama of Philadanco performances. (3)The theatrical lighting and costumes in his posters highlight the artistry of the human body in motion. The powerfully expressive representations of modern dance in "Nothing But Dance" are a fitting
commemoration of Philadanco's past 35 years.

--Ainsley Adams is a student in Colette Copeland's art writing class at the University of Pennsylvania


permanent link  libby 5:11 PM
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Sunday, October 03, 2004

New art cybervenue

 
At the end of our First Friday peregrinations, we bumped into artists Rob Matthews and Matt Fisher, which served as a reminder to let you know about "Sunday Afternoon," an online art show assembled by Fisher and partner Christine Vassallo for the grand opening at their website MatCH-Art.

The multi-disciplinary exhibition includes some work made for the computer, some short-short videos, poetry, other writing, and some more traditional art work. Philadelphia artists in the show include Matthews, Randall Sellers and Sharon Horvath.

Sellers and Fisher both have shows coming up soon at Spector Gallery.

permanent link  libby 4:56 PM
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Off the beaten path for First Friday

 
We needed to change our routine. That's our explanation for eschewing the art in Old City for First Friday even though that's the FF focus and the locus.




Speaking of the focus and the locus, we did walk down Old City streets on our way to see Buster Simpson's King George at Temple Gallery (see Roberta's previous post), and on our way we passed by an energetic scene of people hawking their art, including Rah Crawford (right), who has a show coming up in November at Cubix Gallery in Old City. He was giving people a preview of what his work is like, he said.

We passed some musicians on a corner, and a young fellow named Collin Darrell (left, and blurry, but you get the picture) was displaying some terrific looking glass lampwork pendants and belt buckles. He took a class, he said, at Philadelphia Glass Works (see post) and then went off on his own.




Some nice young women, Mary E. Wehrung (right) and Mary L. Marino, from New Paltz (N.Y.) University, were selling ceramics. Wehrung's carved platters were particularly noteworthy--I would have bought one but for the burden of carrying it while holding a water bottle, taking notes and taking photographs at the same time.




Another young man was selling small landscapes--the very opposite of normal street fare. He ran out of cards with his name, and I'm a bear of very little brain, so I can't remember who he is. [Editor's note 10/4/04: Fortunately, Roberta was able to remember that we had a whole conversation about his name, which is Steve Martin, just like the comedian.] And Suzanne Francis, who we often see on the streets of Old City, was doing a brisk business with her portraits of houses and of dogs.
But to break our routine, we first went south of Market and then we went north of Girard to Northern Liberties' MBN Gallery and Ashley Gallery, by which time we were faint with hunger and exhaustion. But it was worth it--some new vistas and new art--lots of it sculpture for a change.

In the world of sculpture, Locks was the big kahuna as far as big names go. Lynda Benglis and Isaac Witkin hardly need attention from artblog, since they'll get reviews aplenty in more mainstream media, but I can't help myself, because they both had voluptuous metalwork that I'd never seen from either of them before.

Benglis, known for her acts of feminist outrage and outrageousness when she was young, had a couple of cast bronze fountains (right, "Summer Dreams") of such baroque drippiness and blobbiness that I hardly know how to describe them. They were female, for one thing, and they were tongue-in-cheek cheesy and kitschy--as in the bad taste of too much gold jewelry and makeup, trying to look young and not succeeding, but still coming across as a sexy piece of work.


She out-Bernini-ed Bernini, and made baroque look tired (left, Bernini's "Fountain of the Four Rivers" in Rome).

(For Roberta's terrific 2002 artnet.com interview of Benglis, go here.)


And Witkin, whose work has often seemed bogged down in a go-nowhere technique, had some wonderful fluid twists and turns of metal full of a sexiness, slump and drape that I don't normally associate with his work. These pieces' silky curves require some hands-on viewing (I sneaked a feel or two when no one was looking), and this one here, "Wave," (image right) brought to mind Hokusai's classic wave (image left below; image at top of post is Witkin's "Eruption").

In Northern Liberties we started at MBN Studios, and I'd have to say this was the most interesting stop of the evening for me. First of all, the space is a trip. The old industrial or loft space includes a set up for a DJ and some sofas and a dance floor. Alas, no music was going on when we were there, but they're set up to party.

The featured exhibition, "Horse Power," was work by four artists--Juice, Rob-O, Pose II and Caroll T. What I found interesting here was the subject matter.

Roberta and I again divied up what we saw, so I'll just report on photographer Caroll T (aka Caroll Taveras) and Pose II (Daniel Hopkins).

Caroll T, a native of the Dominican Republic, moved to Berlin after college, where she worked with photographer Tomas Adel and performed with the Platipus theater group. She spent the past two years in Amsterdam and has sold photographs to magazines like Dutch Elle, Vibe and people.

Caroll T's photo portraits displayed in this show stand out for their window into a set of cultural expectations in the rendering of an image. The work reminds me of Rembrandt and Velasquez for the inclusion in the portraits symbols of the lives the subjects live--and therefore the things in which the subjects find value. This is the antithesis of portraiture taken in a photography studio with a standard backdrop, so that all you get is the physiognomy.

"Miss Lady Alma," reclining on her divan a la Mme. Recamier, surrounded by richly decorative materials and household goods, is projecting a confident sexiness that his nothing to do with porno's objectification of women. It's a sexiness that's not usually projected in the white art world mainstream, a product of the same subculture that I used to encounter when I called some of my African-American women students back when I taught in the Journalism Department at Temple University. The phone machine message would include a swell of music and a sexy, kittenish voice--a projection your average white daughter would be embarrassed about should her mother dial up and get the message.

"Rich Medina and Fela" includes not just Fela, the dog, but also Medina's LP collection and his guitar. You know a lot about him from this. The order of the collection bespeaks an orderly scholarliness, a seriousness of purpose. The dog suggests that there's no other family.

The beautiful portrait "King Britt" includes an artwork and an exotic-looking musical instrument. The two Pocahantas images show Miss Pocahantas with her deer skin dress and her house decorated with Indian artifacts as well as artifacts of her life. She projects a pride in the somewhat fantastic self-invention that embroiders what I presume to be a Native American background mixed in with African roots.


Also at MBN, Pose II, a former tagger who is part of the Philadelphia Mural Arts Program had a couple of paintings that caught my eye. Painted on found long, vertical panels with a nice oily-looking finish,"Soul of a Pimp" and "Robin" both pulled me back for a second long look. ("Soul of a Pimp" right; sorry about the reflections from the lights in all the MBN photos.)

The pimp is just a skinny kid, with his enormous, fur-trimmed coat a kind of house covered with room/pockets, no doubt for storing his stable of girls. The curled lip sneer is comic, the almost cartoony presence a reminder of Lisa Yuscavage's distorted women. The feather in the pimp's hat is echoed in a couple of brush-stroke gestures that enliven the otherwise black, oily background. I think Pose II must be looking at Rembrandt, judging by the darkness of the backgrounds.

Robin has her hair bound up in one of those towering African cloths a la Erykah Badu, her dreads tumbling out the top, one very unruly one falling down like a lightening bolt for the length of the tower on top of her head ("Robin," left).

No white people are making these kinds of images, and it's a sore lack in the art world, which needs to get out of its hermetic capsule and give kudos to the African-American work that's interesting.

Others showing at MBN were Paul Hamanaka (an installation) and Denis Daly (painting). Hamanaka was charming when we met him, explaining that the styrofoam balls receeding into the distance were the climb from Hell to Heaven. I'm not sure how serious he was about this explanation, because we all were busy laughing.

At Ashley Gallery, we looked at work by Edward A. Raffel (the show is about to come down Oct. 5, alas), who makes objects from a surprising array of industrial and homey materials--like o-rings, roof flashing and plastic champagne cups. Not all the pieces worked equally well.

For instance the crosses obsessively covered with thousands of picture hooks seemed heavy-handed. If gallerist Diane Ashley hadn't explained the Raffel was anti-religious, I don't know that I would have figured it out from the crosses, which are oppressive enough to be interpreted either way.

But the little green mirror box with pearlescent champagne cups was charming, a play on what's valuable and what's useful and decoration. I loved the objects that reminded me of my grandmother's grater and I thought the giant blackcube "Self" (downstairs at the cafe next door because, Ashley explained, she couldn't fit it through her door) was a load of fun. The box has a mirrored interior that allows you to see yourself reflected unto infinity as the cube spins around, an experience that at this point in my life is less than appealing.

Raffel is big on mirrors, big on lights, and big on motors in his sculptures. The self-taught artist, who hails from Cleveland, has the obsessive, gizmo, found-object appeal going. He also has some wonderful paintings (not on display) that Ashley pulled out for us. I loved the ones that felt like a mix of Mona Lisa meets Jim Nutt.

Ashley, by the way, who used to have a New York Gallery and then a gallery in Maryland, had the unfortunate timing of opening in Philadelphia shortly before 9/11. The gallery nearly went under. Fortunately Ashley, who is a bundle of energy, survived. She has an interesting mix of artists, so don't count her out of your gallery tours. Coming up Oct. 9 to 31, she has a show by painter Phil Blank and musician Ben Hartlage, "Frozen Songs: a Collaboration."

permanent link  libby 4:54 PM
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Color him peaceful

 
Post by Francisco Cadavid


Joseph Marioni’s large, color field paintings at Larry Becker Contemporary Art are evenly spaced on the pristine white walls of the gallery, each breaking the visual "silence" with a vivid splash of color -- green, white, blue, yellow, or red.

The artist's work comes together to provide a tranquil environment in a discreet manner. Many are quick to say that the mere application of several coats of paint of one color to a canvas is "not art."

I, however, find that this is perhaps the artist's attempt to strip art down to its bare essence, a pleasing display to evoke feelings from the viewer (in this case, peaceful ones).

Marioni's work could also represent the many "colors" of human emotions, ranging from anger to pleasure to envy. His modern and minimalist style leaves the work open to many interpretations.

Joseph Marioni's paintings will be at Becker through November 20th.
-- Francisco Cadavid

--Francisco Cadavid is a student at the University of Pennsylvania in Colette Copeland's class on writing about art.
permanent link  libby and roberta 10:42 AM
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