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"Resurrection" A group show about the life of death Yello Gallery One of the Oxford English Dictionary's definitions of wit is "quickness of intellect or liveliness of fancy." This definition certainly characterizes "Resurrection," an exhibition of sculptural constructions by artists, Maire Kennedy, David Cook and Marci Rubin, on view at Yello Gallery through March twelfth. "Resurrection," a group showing about "the life of death," and curated by Olga Stefan, centers on the resurrection of discarded objects -- "scraps, garbage and junk" -- as material for provocative art pieces. All three artists build upon a genre made explicit by Marcel Duchamp who in 1913 declared that art was born in the mind of the artist, rather than in the act of his hand -- a declaration which infused his own use of mechanical parts and manipulated objects in a wide variety of assemblages. The Swiss artist, Jean Tinguely, continued to further the genre to wryly critique society and its increasing veneration of technology and formal art; and in recent decades, Lucas Samaras brought into the approach a very modern preoccupation with sex and violence. This Yello Gallery exhibition inclines toward a more ironic and playful, if not always palatable mindset. It is a mindset. There are instances of quick wit, but always the artists have their wits about them. And about the viewers.
"Resurrection" declares that its focus is to "change our idea about what should be discarded, but also perceptions about life and death." And, unlike Duchamp, its materials are items that have outlived usefulness and which are now reborn as art. One can agree that the show itself makes a telling point about our modern wastefulness, and perhaps even about our environmental prognosis -- but many of the works present more of an aphoristic wit, than a philosophical reevaluation. Very few artists have also been thinkers, although it seems a modern imperative to want to appear so. "Resurrection" is a show to enjoy for what it concretely offers; and what it offers ranges from subtle whimsy to fascinating distaste. Maire Kennedy has twenty-six pieces in this show and a number are particularly good. Her work reveals a coltish spirit with a keen and unconventional eye, as well as an apparent lack of concern for cerebral rationalizations and cliches (although the clipped telegraphese of her printed statements may be a bit too precieux.) An exhibition leaflet (mostly) by Jakob Juros explains Kennedy's "Please" thusly: "A metal sickle is nailed with three rusted nails to a collapsible sleeve-ironing board. This piece was composed after a particularly frustrating episode in which the artist attempted to gain the sincere attention of her dry cleaner." That may even be true. But this piece almost recalls Edgar Allan Poe's "The Pit and the Pendulum" and leaves doubts as to the victim. It could even be a timepiece for those who are dead to the world. I liked it.
"Panic" (1998) required a 'second take.' The gallery leaflet states: "Should we be concerned by domestic materials arranged in a dangerous phalanx that seems poised to fall and pierce? Bound by clear cement glue, these knitting needles resemble the stark, unifying political icon of the Italian Fascist party. Panic indeed." Without the printed note, the mounted knitting needles seemed an uptight icon, sort of a "pins & needles" personality portrait. It bore a resemblance to some coffeehouse types I've encountered. Sword of Damocles or Nerves on End? Duchamp, in his essay, "The Creative Act," said: "...the spectator experiences the phenomenon of transmutation; through the change from inert matter into a work of art, an actual transubstantiation has taken place, and the role of the spectator is to determine the weight of the work on the esthetic scale." Well, but what did Duchamp know, anyway? "Wetness" (1997) is another Maire Kennedy visual witticism. The gallery leaflet asserts: "Denying the typical associations with the title-word, this piece rather meditates on the obstructive properties of (non-romanticized) natural environments saturated with danger. "Wetness" is constructed with meat hooks lining the perimeter of an unpaired rubber rain boot, suggesting that, while dryness may be a desirable condition, an exploration of this bourgeois comfort might not be such a great idea." I don't believe a boot is a natural environment, or dryness necessarily bourgeois. The juxtaposition in this assemblage is suggestive, although whether of fishhooks and waders, or of 'bourgeois' Freudianisms it remains uncertain. Maire Kennedy's freely associative assemblages do have a subliminal method to their overt madness, but the artist leaves any rationalizations to the viewer. Her works are more akin to Dadaism than to anything surrealistic. Kennedy's coherent wit recalls the Bokononism of Kurt Vonnegut's novel, Cat's Cradle, and in particular the Bokononist anecdote in which newly-created man asks God for the meaning of God's creation. "'Everything must have a purpose?' asked God. 'Certainly,' said man. 'Then I leave it to you to think of one for all this,' said God. And he went away."
Maire Kennedy does not enter the showing enrobed like the Whitney Museum of American Art. She creates. And leaves the afterwords for the viewer. Like Maire Kennedy, artist David Cook, also employs salvaged materials, and works them together with plaster and cement into sculptural unities. Cook's "Untitled" (1997) is the first of his two sculptures in this exhibition, and this piece is strikingly whimsical. It is constructed from rusted pipes, found metal and plaster. David Cook's "King of the Heap" (1999), seems more of a survivor than a resurrection. The human visage which emerges from the enclosing debris appears more relieved and philosophical than confident. He could as well stand for the soul of man under a consumerist society. In "King of the Heap," he is the one element fashioned by the artist's hand without the intervention of prior manufacture. David Cook has been previously reviewed in artscope.net and that review may be accessed in the retrospective reviews.
Marci Rubin is the third artist in "Resurrection" and an initial impression of her work was a mixture of fascination, curiosity and aversion. In the gallery statement it notes: "In her work, Rubin covers food and cotton (reminiscent of organic matter) in layers of latex to capture their essence before their eventual degeneration. Rubin's Cucinare Series, for example, contains latex casts of baskets, bowls and pans, holding latex covered bones, potatoes, or onion skin."
I must confess that her pieces seemed more like entombments than resurrections, and the generous recourse to latex layerings is obsessive. "Dissection" (1997) was indeed fascinating, if not macabre, and it was only by consulting the gallery staff that I was convinced that it was only wax and latex covered cotton which was being dissected. I believe that I think I was convinced. Well. Perhaps convinced. "Dissection" is followed by "Rack" (1997) in this showing. It is a found rack, from which are draped what I initially took to be a large number of prophylactically sealed mouse corpses or candled small songbirds. It is in fact latex-covered cotton batting. The question began to enter my mind as to whether the mere fact that the medium is found materials ought in any way be significant in evaluating the end result. Mere novelty or shock value often obscures and becomes confused with aesthetic merit or jumps off into 'philosophitheticals.' Marci Rubin incorporates, mostly and literally, biological and simulated biological elements in her works. A gallery handout notes: "Her sculptures show us the products of waste by the life cycle. Using matter from nature she provokes a dialogue between the grotesque and the beautiful in the way we see things on a daily basis." I still retain the child's fascination for preserved biological specimens (the so-called "fauna in a flask"), morgue laboratories and museum mummies, but, here, the artistic impetus eludes me. I freely admit it. That the materials are readapted or simulated waste further obfuscates the thematic link to resurrection. It is a tenuous and very cerebral stretch.
But Marci Rubin's final piece, "Net," perhaps inclines toward a lighter touch -- she has caught something here, if only latex sealed batting. It brought to mind puns about the Grim Reaper's batting average, and puns at least are always enlivening. There may be an aspect here to come away with. Exhibition curator, Olga Stefan, in a printed overview, observed that one of the functions of art is to allow us to "treat death as a part of life." Rubin's pieces may well spur some to go out and view the living inspirations more closely, with more appreciation. If Momento Mori leads to Carpe Diem, it may well be her intent, her place in the exhibition and that is well. All the artists in "Resurrection" have notable works and significant exhibition histories, and "Resurrection' is worth the visit. In "The Creative Act," Marcel Duchamp did correctly comment: "In the last analysis, the artist may shout from all the rooftops that he is a genius; he will have to wait for the verdict of the spectator in order that his declarations take a social value and that, finally, posterity includes him in the primers of art history." Resurrection continues through March 12 and viewers have their chance to voice their verdict. It is a coherent exhibition and offers wit and variety in a more unusual medium. And Yello Gallery does have informative leaflets about the exhibition and the artists. --G. Jurek Polanski Jurek Polanski has previously written and art edited for Strong Coffee in Chicago. He's also well known and respected among the Chicago museums and galleries. Jurek is currently a Visual Arts Correspondent for ArtScope.net. |
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