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Curatorial Perspective: Alternative Cloud Research

Vadim doesn’t want to discuss with me whether or not his work is art. And it’s not that I want to argue with him, my effort towards showing his work should confirm my feelings on whether or not it is art.

The first time I saw one of Vadim’s cloudscapes was at the Burnet Gallery, where his work was included in the ‘Get stARTed’ group exhibit featuring MCAD M.F.A students. I went specifically to the show in search of emerging talent. The gallery had Vadim’s piece displayed on one of the walls that faced the windows, which puts you in awkward close distance to the artwork since you are sandwiched within the 2 feet separating the window and the wall.  Staring straight up at the canvas blanketed in blue sky and white perfect clouds, I was willingly locked in.

Disclaimer: I’m one of those people who happens to look at the sky everyday to make a mental observation of the cloud conditions. I’m not quite sure why I’m so obsessed with the sky, other than the fact that it is entirely endless and completely transformable depending on time of day, weather and the position of the sun or the moon. The sky can make your day with clear blue sunshine and ruin another with rain and gloom.

On second thought, perhaps those are reasons enough to be a cloud nerd. The sky is simply all encompassing, a representation of the universe. I’m into it.

Printed on top of the cloud canvas was translucent text, “the sun also rises, and sun goes down, and hastens to the place where it arose.”

I loved it. I loved the way the clear text faded into and out of the clouds, barely discernable. I remember inspecting the piece, trying to figure out what it was… a photograph? A screen print? The medium wasn’t instantly obvious because it was stretched on canvas as if it were a painting. I examined the Google trademark at the bottom and the Google compass in the top corner. Unsettling. What was Google doing there in the midst of my inspirational moment with a work of art? The Google presence kept glaring at me. Maybe that meant it wasn’t art?  

The piece sold almost immediately. I Googled Vadim, found his website and subsequently his contact info, and I emailed him. I told him how much I loved his piece at the Burnet show, and was curious where the text was from.

He wrote me back, the text was from Ecclesiastes 1:5.

The Bible. I was floored. I’m not religious, but I consider myself intensely spiritual. Yet something about the connection I felt with from that text on the cloud image wavered when I realized the text was from the Bible. The feeling was momentary though, because I couldn’t stop thinking about the art itself. What Vadim created was crazily powerful. The clouds were perhaps Google generated/digitally produced in some way and the words came from a religious context I don’t identify with, but none of that changed the soulful experience I had when I saw the artwork. Despite being fabricated, it made me stop and observe the way I do the actual sky and more than anything… it made me really happy.

8 months later and we’re 2 days away from opening Vadim Gershman’s Alternative Cloud Research at XYandZ Gallery. Since my first encounter with this work, I’ve gotten the opportunity to work with a graphic designer building a solo gallery show. Vadim is the best kind of artist, the kind that over-thinks everything and takes it all seriously, but stays fully aware of the absurdity of it all. His work is exceptional on several levels and expansive in interpretation. I struggled a bit with writing this piece because I wasn’t sure what to address. There’s the presence of Google, the way in which the work is produced, the argument of virtual vs. the real, the screen-printed texts, which since the Burnet Gallery show Vadim has expanded to include philosophy and art texts. We haven’t even touched on the automated web gallery of cloudscapes generated and built to accompany the exhibit…

The other day, as we worked on patching and re-painting the gallery as pristine white as seems fit to house large scale canvases covered in clouds…  I found myself staring at the 10 thumbnails on my computer of the cloudscapes that Vadim ultimately chose for the art works. Even as 2“x2” rectangles the cloud images seemed to glow. Vadim doesn’t simply navigate the sky in Google Street View and snap a shot of the first cluster of clouds he finds interesting. Cloud research requires substantial observation upon which to measure results. These 10 images of the clouds captured in a particular moment are deliberately composed. Imagined as a painting and chosen for some revealing beauty.

The best part is, we haven’t once shown the final works in an image anywhere online, because this art is truly better in reality.

 

Alternative Cloud Research opens March 31, 2012 at XYandZ Gallery.

Video interview: 

Alternative Cloud Research // Vadim Gershman // XYandZ Gallery from Permanent Art and Design Group on Vimeo.

 

 

 

Exhibit Review: Os Gemeos 'Miss You' @ Prism Gallery

I think I heard my inner child squeal as soon as I walked into Prism Gallery, and caught my first eyeful of Miss You by Brazilian street art duo and twin brothers, Os Gemeos.

Admittedly, I spend a lot of time looking at art. Besides the fact that I truly believe in order to be good at what I do as a curator, I need to pay attention to as much art as possible… at the core of it I’m really just an art junkie. I can never get enough visual stimulation. And because I look at almost everything with a critical eye, I am always searching for that experience that will blow my mind and leave me speechless.

Os Gemeos did just that.

The entire gallery is painted from floor to ceiling in red and accented by circular, orange to yellow gradations that resemble halos. From the center of each of these circular shapes is a glowing yellow-headed sculpture, peering sometimes at the viewer, sometimes at a painting on the wall. Each painting is a surreal dreamland masterpiece…. depicting storybook, childlike characters who all seem to exist in a parallel more colorful, mysterious reality. From the tiny sequined embellishments on each painting to the exquisite use of patterns and textures, everything is wrapped up in an Os Gemeos signature San Paulo meets street art aesthetic vernacular. There is an awe-inspiring large-scale mural on the wall leading up a staircase. A square box painted with a face, once climbed inside, reveals a cubed space to take in a kaleidoscope of mirrors, lights and sounds. Words that might float around in your head as you look at the exhibit: whimsical, wonderful… wow.  There is no space between art and wall, gallery and artist. The entire space is art.

The exhibit speaks to the impact of an installation-based approach for a solo show. With Miss You, Os Gemeos not only showcases paintings, but allows you to enter their world and experience the place from which their fantastical approach makes the most sense. As street artists they have the advantage of being able to work with scale and see gallery walls as canvas. As a result, their show maximizes the experiential advantage of seeing art inside a gallery. Viewers have unlimited access on the internet to art images. You can Google ‘Os Gemeos’ and find images upon images of their paintings on walls around the world. More than ever, it is becoming important for artists, curators and galleries to aggressively differentiate the in-person experience of the gallery show. In order to be considered exceptional art in today’s visually saturated world, art has to deliver a fully sensory, tactile, and authentic experience. For art to resonate, it has to look and feel better in person. I read several reviews of the show online, and the unanimous conclusion was that this exhibit was everything that art should be, in general agreement that it was an amazing experience.

When I think back to the Os Gemeos show, I can’t stop feeling the warmth that seemed to emanate off the red walls, floor and ceiling surrounding the paintings and the characters within them.  The carefully created environment left me contemplating how the art in the space made me feel rather then what I simply saw. Inspiring indeed, to have seen a show and conclude that every aspect was perfect. Nothing I will ever see online by Os Gemeos will compare to seeing it in person. Because in person, there is nothing to doubt about it’s affect on you.

A present day rare experience for sure, to find art that seems like magic.

***

http://www.prismla.com/

 

Curatorial Perspective: Not About Bombs

This is a short essay I wrote in response to a recent project. "Not About Bombs," an exhibit featuring the work of 5 contemporary female Iraqi artists, was shown in Feb 2012 at Intermedia Arts in Minneapolis.

In starting the process of putting together Not About Bombs, I wrote in a grant proposal: “I realized what I have been seeing in the artwork is predominantly male-oriented since war is typically seen through a man’s eyes. What are the women of Iraq feeling and thinking, especially in the context of the Arab Spring and the role Arab women are taking towards promoting post-war change? We should view women less as simply victims of war and more as participants in solutions. Such artwork should reveal the complexities of who they are and what their reality is as they face an uncertain future as Iraqi women.”

And that was really all I knew…. I hoped to come across the most engaging and relevant Iraqi female artists I could find, assuming their work would reveal a current reality. The process was challenging. The pool of Iraqi female artists creating contemporary work was slim. A few options were eliminated based on unavailability or a hiatus from art. It was heartbreaking to pass on an amazing contemporary artist whose work was simply too expensive to ship from Dubai. Settling on the final 5 artists led to the realization that all the art in the show would be photo-based. I fought with this for a while, attached to the idea that a variety of mediums needed to be represented. A good friend pointed out to me that instead of fighting this outcome, I needed to embrace it and explore what this common thread signified. Instead I realized that the photo-heavy focus of this exhibit is compelling, particularly in response to the meditated photos that we as Americans are selectively exposed to when it comes to Iraq. Regardless, I do not consider this a photography exhibit. Instead, these artists have chosen photography as their medium to express something that is too real and too present to be shown any other way.

I decided also that I would not force a theme on this exhibit; instead I would wait and see what the art revealed collectively. What surfaced was an intrinsic dialog between the artworks… on residual memory and escape, the experience of loss and re-adoption of the past along with a yearning to look forward and find positivity.

The framework for interpretation of this dialog lies in the visual commonalities between the personal perspectives of each artist. It is also important to recognize a contemporary understanding of what it is to be an “Iraqi artist” in a technologically and socially advanced world, especially with how connected this world allows us to remain. The work presents a consistent perspective that cannot be ignored even with art related to individual experiences of being Iraqi today. War, belonging, and the concept of home remain virtually present although it seems far away… because for these artists it is also as close as it can be.

This group of Iraqi artists exists more within a cross-cultural sphere than anywhere else. The five women collectively represent a place between their country of origin and their country of destination. Sama Alshaibi lives in Arizona and Dena Al-Adeeb lives in Los Angeles. For Baghdadi Mem/Wars the women collaborated in New York. Tamara Abdul Hadi splits time between Montreal and Lebanon, while her sister, Sundus Abdul Hadi works and lives in Montreal. Both their work in this exhibit is based on photography captured by Tamara while she re-visited Iraq for the first time in 17 years. In contrast to the rest of the women, Julie Adnan remains based and rooted in Kirkuk, Iraq. Yet avoiding the framework of nationalism and instead understanding their work as representatives of individual narratives leads to greater understanding of contemporary Iraqi identity.

This show claims one thing boldly, that it is not about bombs… what then is it about? To me, the selection of works embrace cultural and visual references to Iraq and a 9-year war, but presented it in a way that is contemporary enough to be immediate and fresh.  And for the artists, it is perhaps about remembering the past but looking towards the future…as well as acknowledging the obstacles such a simple concept inevitably implies. Ultimately this is a voice that is rarely heard, and admittedly a challenge to bring together. Yet the intensely beautiful and cohesive outcome… speaks to the power of a platform for representation.

 

Photos by Sharolyn Hagen.

Exhibit Review: Lifelike @ The Walker Art Center

Considering that we spend our entire existence surrounded by objects, it’s no wonder we tend to overlook them while also being guilty of overvaluing them. What is a consumer society if not materialistic and trivial? If there is one thing that artists are more obsessed with than the human condition, it is perhaps the object. The new exhibit at the Walker Art Center is an examination of the artist’s fascination with simply, the everyday.

Browsing through the collection of over 50 works by international artists spanning decades from the 1960’s to today, the viewer is presented with an amalgamation of objects exemplifying trends from some of the most disciplined of contemporary art movements. Outside of a necessary nod to pop art upon immediately entering the exhibit, in the form of two Andy Warhol Brillo boxes, expectations for anything glamorous are swept away by a muted palette of mundane things. From surrealist pieces, photo-realistic paintings and conceptual art… the influence of Dada (the social movement that simply aimed to bring attention to the sheer meaninglessness of life and art) threads through the exhibit, and it’s almost impossible not to sense a Marcel Duchamp approach of presenting seemingly random objects as art.

Yet not everything is simple enough to wander past nonchalantly. While a plate of shrimp pad thai by Rirkrit Triavanija and speaker stacks by Kaz Oshido’s appear to look as eerily lifelike as possible, other pieces deliver a trompe l’oeil effect… tricking both the eye and the mind. Is a cigarette pack actually floating? Is a bee really a bee? Is this kitchen a place? Do those elevators actually work? Are those leaves really growing from the crack in the wall?

These questions are not exactly at the core of any deep philosophical contemplation, and yet the exhibit feels exceptionally perplexing. The exhibit poses the question of reality. Simply, what is “real?” Further, why is any object worthy of a tribute or painstaking re-creation in the form of art? The collection of art makes it clear that across decades, countries of origin and influential art movements… regardless of our societal circumstances… artists are undeniably obsessed with making things look and feel as real as possible. There is a need to re-create in some form a memory, a moment, or a mundane object in order to preserve it and give it attention. After all, what is the point of life if we don’t take the time to appreciate even the smallest things? Who but the introspective artist would feel obligated to make them bigger, give them weight and ultimately acknowledge them? Thanks to these artists we are given the opportunity to contemplate our attachment, or lack of connection altogether.

While the obvious experience of self-awareness is readily available through this exhibit, Lifelike left me feeling unsatisfied. In a flawless attempt at familiarity the art feels alienating, creepy and at times morbid. Yes, I know this is also the point, but I’m personally not floored by art that pretends not to be art because simply, it’s boring. How stimulated should I be by a piece of cardboard leaning on a wall that seems to ask, “Why can’t I be art? I’m not actually cardboard.” Besides feeling intrigued about the curious threads between these art works that span decades and subject matter, I didn’t feel connected to it. I didn’t feel amazed, in awe or inspired. It’s bewildering to feel this way about art, especially art that is obviously skillful and contributed by major worldwide contemporary artists.  However this exhibit is still powerful, simply for making me think for days about why I didn’t necessarily love anything about it. Ultimately, it taught me more about what it is in life and art that I do value and appreciate.

I’ll admit that a few pieces in the exhibit did have me lingering in contemplation for more than a moment, a Chuck Close self-portrait (always awesome to examine the thousands of lifelike strands of facial hair in varying lengths) or an entire installation re-creating every last detail in the kitchen of artist, Keith Edmier’s childhood memory (nostalgia is inescapable). Taken out of this collection many of the pieces are exciting works of art, yet surrounded by so much else that similarly addresses the ordinary, it becomes difficult to feel stimulated. This exhibit might have been touted as a “crowd-pleaser,” but I think not so much. To me, it’s an exhibit that shamelessly asks you to love it or leave it. Some will delight in the dual real and surreal feel of the entire collection and revel in the many photo ops of amusement. Others perhaps like me, will need a little more beauty and idealization in art.

And that is perfectly okay, either way.

Exhibit Review: Maurizio Cattalan @ The Guggenheim

I spent a couple days in NYC last week browsing expected beautiful objects at the Met and the MOMA… a little bit of a working art vacation. But the highlight of my trip happened to be at The Guggenheim… where I caught Maurizio Cattelan’s highly publicized and criticized retrospective show, “All.” Generally, critics hated the show. A review on artnet.com basically called the show crap before it even opened. Not surprising though, as Cattelan, known as a bit of a trickster in the art world… is often hard to take seriously. But this particular show, begs to be taken seriously. Because… it’s seriously genius.

As you walk into the Guggenheim your gaze immediately shifts upward at the massive objects hanging down the middle of the building. From a curatorial perspective, I spent most of my time there reveling at the sheer difficulty of installation, the total cost of insurance and process of borrowing the art from private collectors all over the world. But that thought process barely touches the surface of this spectacle. Cattelan agreed to this show at the Guggenheim under the condition that instead of using wall space… he could hang 130 of his artworks from the center of the building. Viewers then walk up the ramps, enjoying a 360 degree perspective of the most curious and bizarre objects. The whole thing is absurd and brilliant. Bits of pop culture, self-portraiture, death, life, taxidermy, contemporary art, consumerism, religion and sex are revealed at every level of the building. Every single piece is dangled carefully and deliberately within a web of objects that seems precarious and yet so motionless. There is simply, too much to look at and too much to think about. It’s a contemporary art masterpiece.

After having seen the show, I read the negative reviews of Cattelan’s show with disappointment. I’m not quite sure why the art world insists on taking itself so seriously. Wrapping upwards on the ramps while gazing at Cattelan’s still, dangling sculptures is a captivating experience. It turns art upside down… it make you see things differently, experience art in a new way. It is in no way conventional, but it wouldn’t have made sense any other way. So to the stuffy art world critics: get over yourself. Cattelan’s show is incredible. Supposedly, this is his retrospective and retirement from the art world, but I certainly hope not, because I’d like to see more, however he chooses to show it. 

Studio Visit/Exhibit Preview: Drew Peterson, "A Moment Stays" @ Burnet Gallery

Drew Peterson’s art is familiar. I’ve seen it before, many times.  In fact I’m quite fond of his prints. With the intense colors and well-crafted layers, precise lines and controlled energy… it’s exciting, stimulating, perfect.  It does no wrong except that it is always it’s best or seems that way.

How do you make yourself a better version of your best self? If you’ve been doing “you” for as long as you can remember, how do you let it all go…without abandoning all the good parts you’ve worked so hard to cultivate?

And why would you want to let go?

Because simply, at the root of creativity is re-invention. While an artist may finally find that signature, sound, or stamp that they can without doubt claim as their own, they will eventually face that moment when they must decide to grow or remain. Remaining is safe, it works and it feels comfortable. People like it (and that is the ultimate confirmation) or better, people buy it!  But any true artist knows it’s not about money (ok, sometimes it is) but more romantically, it’s all about the challenge of finding something new to like if not equally, even more. It’s even better if that something new is coming from a place of self-driven mastery, skill and experience.  This of course is more easily said than done.

Back to Drew’s art (actually this was all about Drew’s art but I’ll be more direct now)… in some ways, his upcoming solo exhibit “A Moment Stays, “ is about letting go. But don’t expect to see a whole new Drew. It’s not time for that quite yet, and detachment requires contentment. So along with his tried and true come new surprises. As he does with his art, he fittingly moves forward while standing perfectly still.

Inspired by Japanese woodblock prints, ikebana (Japanese flower arranging) and a readiness to abandon his signature imagery, Drew nonetheless lets go slowly and elegantly. In a careful step towards a purging of his typical machine-like structures… he pulls individual elements from his previous imagery and utilizes them to create new bouquet-like structures that are no less intricate but somehow calmer, balanced, refined. The result is an unexpected new softness. Another change is open space. Where previously Drew would have layered and layered until the background seemed an afterthought, he now gives the viewer a composed place to rest their eyes. His brilliant color selection is given the space to show off. Colors and layers are more deliberately placed so that a deep lilac and muted gray-blue can be admired just for looking that good next to each other.  Breathing room must have felt right, because some of the larger pieces in the exhibit are simply two colors.

Printed with silver ink on a rich cobalt blue is a piece that is more about the negative space than anything. It’s quite a departure from his previous work, but the path to achieve a piece like this comes only from a certain mastery of printmaking technique.  Acceptance of the limits of his imagery and willingness to find new space gracefully lands him in uncharted and exciting territory. The cobalt blue that floods the negative space is simply stunning because the “double drop” print of flat blue is flawless, not an easy feat. The tone of blue offsets the overlay of silver inked shapes so that the piece glows just enough to resemble something that feels like the darkest night within a bright moonlit sky. It’s hard to look away.

The only downside to the apparent changes in Drew’s work is that it makes his more classic pieces in the show seem slightly less exciting. They are no less impressive… and showcase his impeccable ability to balance a procession of layers and restrain chaos within order. However, the new techniques and risks he takes with other pieces pay off so well, you’re left wanting more of that instead. This is certainly not a bad thing for an artist.

With change comes hesitancy, so for now this exhibit will deliver everything that you would expect of a Drew Peterson solo show. Yet while his signature is fully present, he also shares something exquisitely fresh. Exploration is evident but satisfaction is clear. Perhaps then, this is the perfect moment to let go.

“A Moment Stays” solo exhibition by Drew Peterson.  

Burnet Gallery, Le Méridien Chambers, 901 Hennepin Ave., Minneapolis, Minn.

FREE Opening Reception 6-9 p.m., Fri., Jan 13. Exhibition runs through, Feb. 26, 2011. Gallery hours are 11 a.m. to 9 p.m. daily

Exhibit Review: Dreams and Effigies @ Form + Content

My head was in a crazy place that day. I had a lot on my mind and a list of things to accomplish, but slotted for around 5:30pm was a stop into Form + Content Gallery to check out an exhibit of new works by Camille J. Gage and Ellen Skoro, Dreams and Effigies. From the moment I stepped into the gallery, everything inside my whirling mind seemed to melt away…

The back of the gallery is flooded with the shadows cast by a hanging installation.  Encircled by black rings and hung lightly by strands of deep hued beads are antlers of various sizes. The antlers twirl ever so slightly in their precarious suspension allowing the viewer to gaze at them from almost every angle. Camille J. Gage explains that her installation pieces in this show were inspired by an actual dream she once had, in fact perhaps one of the most impactful dreams she’s ever had. In this dream a huge buck with massive antlers led her through an intimidating forest, helping her to cross an imaginary but real barrier into a scary place. Working with antlers as sculptural pieces of art allowed her to see their form when reversed, as protective rather then menacing.

A dually fierce and calm presence occupies the walls of the gallery in the form of totem-esque animal clusters.  Ellen Skoro, who repeatedly dreams of animals, starts with hand cut photo collages from found images of various animals. After arranging them into a shape she scans and digitally manipulates their size so that when printed, mounted and cut out of wood, the collages are practically life-size. The art works are peculiar to me at first, I’m not sure what to make of the animal clusters until upon further inspection… pattern and flow take shape. Deliberate groupings of animals, from wolves to housecats, wild cats to puppies, snakes and birds… layers and layers of curious creatures feel cyclical, calming, spiritual. 

Often times, the experience of art is palpable, specific pieces from a show become favorites… others might be troubling or a turn off, but either way preference decisions can be made on what you saw. In the case of Dreams and Effigies something different transpired for me. Being in the space with this art was not so much about the individual works but the overall experience of being surrounded by them. Animal eyes peer at you from every wall and sharp antlers encircle you emphasizing a predatorial presence, and yet you feel safe, you leave feeling peace. The take-away is the whole more than the parts... and the sleep-like, restorative energy contained in this exhibit is nothing short of beautiful.

From the deeply subconscious and magical realm of our dreams sometimes comes enlightenment, though more often than not comes confusion.  Ellen Skoro and Camille J. Gage’s dreams inspired clarity in the form of art, creating a space to remind us that life is about balance, between the known and the unknown, the intimidating and the familiar. In the end, all we can really be sure of is that we are here to experience both the real world and a dream world, no matter how uncertain they may be.

 

Dreams and Effigies runs through December 30, 2011. Tomorrow night Camille Gage hosts a Solstice Meditation and restorative yoga at the gallery, Wed Dec 21, 6 PM to 7 PM. The event is free.

More information: www.formandcontent.org

Exhibit Review: Who Are You?!? @Burnet Gallery

Who Are You?!? Dana Weiser at Burnett Gallery

When I first moved to Minneapolis 14 years ago, having spent my entire life living in the Middle East, it was difficult to identify as an American, although by blood I certainly was. Add a unique complexion and physical appearance contributed by my Thai mother… and I inevitably faced questions like, “WHAT are you?” I think the most disturbing question was, “what’s your nationality?” to which I answered, “American,” only to gain a reaction that suggested it wasn’t the exotic answer they were looking for. In my head I had a more interesting explanation, but annoyed by their lack of knowledge I rolled my eyes thinking, “ask what my ethnicity is if you want to know why I don’t look like you.” Sadly, harmless curiosity is often surrendered by a lack of sensitivity in approach and my desire to educate was lost as a result.

Yet, judgment is unavoidable. As humans we are so intensely tied to how we look and what physical cues reveal about where we are from or what kind of people we might be. Definable roots, for belonging and identity as defined by clan, is such a strong human need for both security and understanding. While we move towards a world that is less homogenous, disconnect has simultaneously grown between those we can relate to and those we can’t. It’s disappointing that it couldn’t be the other way around, especially with availability of knowledge and efforts to encourage cross-cultural understanding. Blurred lines are somehow creating more intolerance, more confusion.

Who Are You?!? Dana Weiser at Burnett Gallery

If anyone can shed some fresh light on the subject, it is often the artist who takes something we are tired of thinking about and presents it in a way that resonates. Dana Weiser’s first solo show, Who are You?!?, opening this Friday at the Burnet Gallery, does just that. Her perspective is that of a Korean-born adoptee raised in Minnesota by Jewish American parents. Growing up she struggled with how her physical appearance led people to ask hurtful questions such as, “but where are your REAL parents from?” She dealt with unfair stereotyping that she could not internalize both because of her lack of connection to Korea and the ignorance of the statements. A man in an elevator once sniffed her and asked her where the kimchee was. While many adoptees deal with how people perceive them, recent celebrity culture exonerates the adopting/saving of babies from third world countries and the media obtusely labels then as “adoptive children” rather then simply children, exacerbating the difference. As an artist, Weiser channels her emotions and reactions into a meditative process resulting in hand-drawn patterns and ceramic sculptures that are not surprisingly, both soothing and uncomfortable.

Who Are You?!? is at first glance dazzling and beautiful. Ornate etched Venetian-style mirrors are balanced next to paper drawings of delicate, flowering patterns accented with metallic outlines. In the center of the room are several sculptures, a pair of crying babies covered in gemstones and painted gold and silver, a multi-faced girl sculpture finished in a subtle glittering sheen. But as the viewer is drawn into the room, words and questions pop out of almost every surface. One mirror asks “What are you?” Peeking out beneath another drawing’s pattern is the word, “Xenophobia.” The important thing to take away, both for understanding other people and this show, is that there is more beneath the surface. Beyond first glance, what is there might not be what you expect, so please tread lightly.

The exhibit is truly breathtaking. Weiser’s craftsmanship is perfection and her clever take on identity and racism is unexpected. The strength of the show lies in the truly personal place from which the art was created and her ability to package it in a way that is equally enticing and off-putting. Yet from discomfort comes growth. Take a few moments with your reflection and a question… and you might begin see yourself and the world just a little differently.

***

Who are you?!?” solo exhibition by Dana Weiser

Burnet Gallery, Le Méridien Chambers, 901 Hennepin Ave., Minneapolis.

FREE Opening Reception 6-9 p.m., Fri., Sept. 16

Exhibition runs through, Oct. 16, 2011. Gallery hours are 11 a.m. to 9 p.m. daily

 

More on the artist: http://www.danaweiser.com/

Nate Young -- Postracializationalism @ XYandZ Gallery

We opened a new show this weekend at XYandZ. The opening reception was successful with a great turnout, but we did notice that much of our regular gallery crowd seemed absent. Granted this particular evening offered a plethora of arts events and exhibit openings around town, so perhaps that could be considered. But we also wondered about the show itself and whether or not the subject matter was a bit challenging. 

It is a unique show to say the least. Some people at the opening called it "beautiful," others called it "uncomfortable." I personally, am swept up in the deliberate lack of color. The pieces are for the most part made up of white space. They perfectly complement the white gallery walls while also managing to stay distinctly separate from them. This is only a basic place to start thinking about this show, perhaps even irrelevant. 

I encourage you to stop by and see this show. It needs your thoughts. 

Postracializationalism runs from Sept. 10- October 7 @ XYandZ Gallery. 

 

Studio Visit: Josh K. Winkler (Fantastic Realities @ XYandZ)

Josh Winkler has bird skulls on a shelf in his studio. He refers to the collection as the “glass casualties.” He acquired all of the deceased birds this Spring, each a victim of a fatal accident: flying into windows. The skulls look precious, a delicate and sad shrine.

Pinned to the wall above this shelf is a magazine image of the recreated living room of C.J. McElroy, at the International Wildlife Museum of Tuscon, which Josh visited in 2009. McElroy was the founder of the Safari Club, an elitist organization formed in the 1970’s to cater to the interests of trophy hunters. McElroy is known for having killed nearly 400 animals, which he had stuffed and mounted to be proudly displayed in his home. McElroy was actually forced to resign from the club due to questionable ethics and suspicions that he hunted extinct animals in a national park. Regardless of the behavior that ultimately exiled him from his own organization, the sheer incredibility of one man’s impact on the world is what Josh is most concerned with. Inside the trophy room are hundreds of taxidermied animals killed by a single human, deliberately for fun and status.

The image of McElroy’s trophy room serves as inspiration for a large intaglio print, where Josh uses a process of etching into metal every tiny detail of the room, scaled to express a perceived grandeur. If the room is something to be admired or disgusted is up to the viewer. Perhaps Josh’s choice of printmaking method, which uses a harsh technique of acid to eat away the areas not etched into cold metal, delivers a final image that contains less humanity within it. However, Josh claims his choice of method for this particular print is simply the ease of working in detail with intaglio, though his usual method is to use woodcut reductions. The woodcut process is a bit more rustic, requiring hand carving of an image into wood blocks and rubbing color onto them. Josh’s process usually involves 6 woodblocks per print, because he prefers not to completely cut away at the original block, as is typically done in reduction printing known as a suicide print. Once it is completed, there is no possibility for re-prints. Finality doesn’t resonate with this artist despite his willingness to put death on a shelf.

As Josh attempts to preserve some aspect of his printmaking process, his subject matter similarly preserves memory. His prints of collections, monuments and museums are seen from a detached picturesque viewpoint, despite having visited each place first-hand. The perspective of each image is that of a bird’s eye view, an almost “impossible” view according to Josh, one where the full scale can be seen from one angle. His color schemes and style remind me of the illustrative pictures I might have seen in an encyclopedia, the classic book version before we knew of Wikipedia.  Similarly vintage, his prints emulate the look of a 70’s style postcard, depicting an epic vacation to the most fantastic place. There is a deliberate sense of nostalgia in all of his work.

The fantastic places he re-creates each bring attention to obscure human attempts to revel in the wonder of creatures that inhabited the earth long before us. Paradoxically, almost everything we do to advance our quality of life disrupts their natural habitat.  One print features The Mammoth Site in South Dakota boasting the world’s largest mammoth research site, an animal that no longer exists. Another shows Lake Mead in Nevada, a large reservoir in the desert that dually serves as a water supply and a place for recreation. A reflection of our ruthless disposition towards the earth as we deplete its resources and change its structure for survival as much as entertainment. This juxtaposition is also present in a print of the National Freshwater Fishing Hall of Fame in Hayward, Wisconsin, a popular fishing destination known for trophy worthy catches. The museum features a massive 143-foot fiberglass sculpture of the world’s largest fish, the muskie. Muskies are a species prone to overfishing, so there is a strict catch and release policy. Despite the celebration of this fish, capture causes them much stress and trauma.

Josh doesn’t so much condemn the human need to assert dominance over animals of even the most monstrous size or to control nature by disrupting and moving it, as he does exude honest concern for it. While there is true sadness in a collection of recently deceased birds, he admits to some humor in the fact that most of them died crashing into a window. He hopes this humor is uncomfortable though, and just enough for some sense of awareness amidst the laughter. Possibly some compassion can be realized in the wonderment of gazing upon tiny skulls or nostalgic images of ironic animal shrines.

On a table sits a pile of wood scraps that have been extracted from a hand-carved “water tower." He’s been working on this sculptural piece for almost a year. He refers to it as a water totem, recalling the ancient tradition of carved poles to represent indigenous groups. To Josh, water towers much like highway walls, change the landscape for both humans and animals. Water towers are also a shift from a basic human need (water) now funneled from a made-made structure rather than directly from the earth. The fact that his water tower is painted and carved to look like a hamburger, hints yet again at his particular dark humor. As seriously as he addresses our growing disconnect with the land, his art frames it in an absurd twist. Perhaps under it all, the absurdity of human apathy is what is truly twisted. 

 

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Opening this Friday, August 5^th, Josh Winkler is featured in Fantastic Realities at XYandZ Gallery. The exhibit runs through Sept 3, and features most of the work mentioned in this studio visit along with a complementary collection of work from artist Brian Borlagh. 

More info here.