Here are just a few of the art events this weekend happening in Houston and Galveston.
THURSDAY
Bas Poulos, Arcadia Vista 'A' (Large Version), 2012, 48x60 inches, acrylic on canvas
Bas Poulos: The Arcadia Vista Landscapes at Meredith Long Gallery, 5 pm. I saw these in Poulos' studio when he was still working on them, and am looking forward to seeing the completed series. Based on certain Greek landscapes, former Rice University painting professor Poulos simplifies and abstracts them in these intensely colored paintings.
Tetramorph: The Mavis C. Pitman Award Exhibition
at the Rice Media Center, 6–8 pm, featuring work by Trey Ferguson, Lisa Bileska, Jessie Anderson, and Alexandria Fernandez. I know nothing about this except that these are Rice student artists, and I was one of those once. I bet they are less clueless than was. (Thursday is the night for Rice artists, it seems.)
FRIDAY
Kodachronology featuring work by Shannon Duncan, Donna Fernandez, and Tere Garcia at the Caroline Collective, 7-10 PM [show runs through April 19th]. Even though Kodachrome film was officially discontinued in 2009, these photographers still had some of the color film that "give[s] us those nice bright colors" and
"the greens of summer," according to Paul Simon. They developed the film in black and white chemicals, and this show is the result of that experiment.
SATURDAY
Akin Forray Ledvina: Art Show
at Domy Houston with work by Chris Akin, Sebastian Forray and Cody Ledvina at 7 pm. I'm informed that this art exhibit will feature free beer.
Chris Akin, Sebastian Foray and Cody Ledvina (not to scale)
piece by Teruko Nimura
The Bridge Club; Christa Mares, Marianne McGrath, Teruko Nimura; and Jared Wesley Singer at Box 13, 5 pm. The Bridge Club performs (5 to 8 pm) and other artists have work on display in conjunction with the NCECA conference later this month. The Bridge Club's hypnotic performances are always worth checking out.
Clayton Porter, Trying Hard, 2012, multiple videos on three 32 in. TVs, time variable
Let's get the dick out of the way right up front. In the big downstairs gallery at Lawndale where the exhibit Staring at the Wall: The Art of Boredomis, you hear the words "work" and "hard" being repeated over and over, with slightly varying rhythms. Three 32-inch TVs are facing each other, so that their screens are mostly hidden from the viewer. That's where the sound is coming from.
Clayton Porter, Trying Hard, 2012, multiple videos on three 32 in. TVs, time variable
Only when you get close and peek through the narrow slits between the TVs do you see erect penises (presumably artist Clayton Porter's penis) being pressed into soft sticks of butter. There are many things one could say to describe this, but "boring" is not one of them. That's the first clue that the title of the exhibit is not really about your boredom. It's more about what boredom unlocks. Being bored is an inducement to do something. For example, masturbation. And if mere masturbation isn't cutting it, why not press your dick into some soft butter? As The Waitresses sang, "It might not be better but I'll settle for different."
Clayton Porter, untitled (casts of melted butter), 2012, eight plaster of paris sculptures Boredom here seems to be the inspiration for new work, a video installation called Trying Hard. And this apparently resulted in a series of little sculptures.
Clayton Porter, untitled (casts of melted butter), 2012, plaster of paris
Clayton Porter, untitled (casts of melted butter), 2012, plaster of paris
I had a discussion about these sculptures with a friend last night. He had two thoughts--first, as casts they seemed too perfect. He didn't believe that these were actual casts of butter that had been smushed by Porter's erect penis. He thought the technical challenges of creating such a cast might be too great. And there is nothing in the exhibit that states that what they are casts of the penis-smushed butter sticks--but everyone who sees them jumps to that conclusion. The other thing was that the sculptures were a way to turn this activity--pressing his penis into butter--into a salable object. He felt that detracted from the video installation, that the sculptures were unnecessary adjuncts. Perhaps so, but the fact that he could take this seemingly boredom-born activity and turn it into discreet sculptures is kind of impressive.
The thing about Staring at the Wall: The Art of Boredom is that Clayton Porter is everywhere. His work comes close to overwhelming the show. In addition to the loud dick piece and eight sculptures that seem to be associated with it, he has two more pieces in the exhibit.
Clayton Porter, Anal Patina, 2012, bronze, displayed with stationary bike and photograph, 11.5" x 12" x 2.75" (seat)
With Anal Patina, Porter made a bronze cast of his stationary bicycle seat and rode it naked for 650 miles. The patina (which I couldn't really see) was formed by his butt sweat. Boredom may have played a part (riding a stationary bike isn't exactly exciting). The piece is meant to "focus on the body," according to the notes. But mostly it elicits a laugh. In fact, one thing conspicuously absent in the show's notes (presumably written by curator Katia Zavistovski) about Anal Patina and Trying Hard is that they're funny. Porter is described as being preoccupied "with identity, sexuality and power relations." But the most obvious aspect of these two pieces, humor, is not mentioned.
Clayton Porter, Untitled (Sunlight Across My Face), 2012, video
Clayton Porter, Untitled Drawing (Self-Portrait), 2011, graphite and wax on paper, 9" x 11.5"
His last two pieces in the show are linked to each other. First is a pencil self-portrait--nothing special but well-executed. This is mounted on a freestanding bulletin-board-like structure. On the other side from the portrait is a projection, Untitled (Sunlight on My Face). This one is where Porter brings the boredom to us. This is, apparently, a video of sunlight slowly creeping across this portrait. It's only 19 minutes long, but I suspect no one watches the whole thing--too boring. I was reminded of Michael Snow's Wavelength, another film that few people watch all the way through unless they have to.
The boredom of the artist comes through in Chris Akin's work. Akin is a guard at the Menil Museum and apparently spends a whole lot of time looking at the floor. I can understand why. Standing in one place waiting for the occasional person to illicitly whip out a camera so you can actually do something must be excruciatingly boring. And the worn wood floors at the Menil are admittedly pretty interesting--I notice them every time I'm there.
Chris Akin, from the Menil Floor Drawing series, 2004-2006, metallic paint pen and pencil on paper, 2 5/8" x 4 1/4" each
Akin has taken his boredom and spun it into a body of work--drawings from 2004 to 2006, then collages from 2010 to 2012. Staring at the floors of the Menil has kept him artistically busy for years.
Chris Akin, from the Menil Floor Drawing series, 2010-2012, mixed media on paper, imensions variable
The pieces feel nostalgic, recalling cubist drawings and paintings as well as abstractions from the late 50s and 60s. In this way, they have a secondary relationship to the Menil through the content of its collection.
Jenny Schlief, I Am Making Art: After Baldessari, 2010, iPhone video, 29 seconds looped
The show catalog acknowledges that Schlief has humorous intentions. Taking Baldessari's dryly humorous video and replacing it with a baby with ants in her pants is funny. Apparently the link to boredom here has to do with the struggle of a parent to keep her child from being bored. But it could also relate to John Baldessari's ironic artistic statement, I Will Not Make Any More Boring Art.
Jeremy DePrez evidently kills time doodling on a scratch pad. One of his paintings in the show is based on this material.
Jeremy DePrez, untitled, 2012, oil on canvas, 52" x 78"
Boredom is not all that far from obsession. The need to fill the vacuum of time leads us to pointlessly repetitive acts like the careful filling of blank space on this scratch pad that DePrez has expanded and immortalized. Horror vacui also comes hand in hand with boredom. We clutter up our environments to stave off boredom.
Uta Barth, ...and to draw a bright white line with light (Untitled 11.1) (left side), 2011, inkjet prints face-mounted against matte acrylic, framed in painted aluminum frames, diptych--each panel 37 1/2" x 55 3/4"
Uta Barth, ...and to draw a bright white line with light (Untitled 11.1)
(right side), 2011, inkjet prints face-mounted against matte acrylic,
framed in painted aluminum frames, diptych--each panel 37 1/2" x 55 3/4"
Uta Barth and Seth Alverson both depict interior scenes (curtains and a chair respectively) which are related to the theme of the show via the idea that loneliness is related to boredom. I think this connection is weaker than what we see in the other works. At least it is for me. Sitting in a chair staring at the light as it plays across the curtains, catching dust particles in the air, and zoning out is not boredom. Being bored is feeling each second pass. Barth and Alverson's pieces make me think of those moments when time ceases to exist. I suppose the question is whether satori comes out of boredom or if it is a banishment of boredom. In any case, I feel these two pieces are closer to depicting a kind of satori than mere boredom. They have a gorgeous emptiness.
Seth Alverson, Chair, 2012, oil on canvas, 30" x 30"
Staring at the Wall: The Art of Boredom runs through January 12 at Lawndale Art Center.
Another Thanksgiving has passed, and that means we are on the home-stretch for the year and that galleries and art-spaces are putting up their final shows of the season. And that means there's a lot happening this week. Here are just some of the shows and performances we're looking forward to.
THURSDAY
Jamal Cyrus performing "Texas Fried Tenor" at the CAMH at 6:30 pm. Part of a series of performances at CAMH for Radical Presence: Black Performance in Contemporary Art, this one was inspired by Steely Dan's song "Deacon Blues" which may be the only time the oblique-but-smooth jazz-rock stylings of Steely Dan have ever inspired a piece of performance art (although I'd be happy to be corrected if I'm wrong).
FRIDAY A bunch of shows at Lawndale Art Center, tonight at 6:30 and running through January 12. It's the usual grab bag of shows at Lawndale, but I'm looking especially forward to Staring at the Wall: The Art of Boredom curated by Katia Zavistovski because ever since I heard Thomas McEvilley described L'Avventura as "exquisitely boring" in film history class, boredom has been one of my favorite subjects. It includes art by Chris Akin, Seth Alverson, Uta Barth, Jeremy DePrez, Clayton Porter and Jenny Schlief. Also, James Ciosek's HUMAN HAMSTER WHEEL!
SATURDAY
Theaster Gates performing See, Sit, Sup, Sing:Holding Court at CAMH at 2 pm. Another of the performances for Radical Presence: Black Performance in Contemporary Art. Theaster Gates is one of the best-known social practice artists around, so this performance is a "must-see".
Situation Sculpture #1 by the Art Guys at 4400 block of Airline Drive (at East Whitney Street) at 3 pm. This sculpture (which as far as I can tell is a bunch of sewer hook-ups in an empty lot) is part of the Art Guys' 30-year anniversary celebration. This conflicts somewhat with Theaster Gates--tough choice. If you can't decide, let the weather decide for you. If it's nasty, see Theaster Gates. If it's nice, see the Art Guys. (Although if you are willing to discard accepted safe-driving standards, you may be able to see both.)
Demiak at Redbud Gallery, opening at 6 pm [on view through December 30]. Martin Demmink, aka Demiak, is coming back to Houston after participating last year in a pair of group shows at Williams Tower and Box 13. His work in those shows involved photographing dioramas of Louisiana swamp scenes. I wonder if Dutch guys developing an affinity for Louisiana is a thing (I'm thinking of the character "Sonny" from Treme). Anyway, those pieces from last year were great so I have high hopes for this new exhibit.
What are you looking forward to seeing this weekend? Let us know in the comments section.
Nowhere Near Here is a an exhibition of new photographic work by Texas artists held concurrently at Fotofest and Houston Center for Photography. The artists, selected by Menil Collection curators Toby Kamps and Michelle White, all currently live and work in Texas, although the work on display is often set outside of the Lone Star State.
I have visited the Fotofest portion of the exhibit – presenting the work off 11 artists – on two occasions. When Fotofest fills it's exhibition space to capacity, which includes a second floor, there's a lot of work to take in. Thankfully, I believe this exhibition is worth a repeat visit, and I found myself returning to the work of three artists in particular.
Houston photographer Chris Akin presents inkjet prints of photographs taken in California and New York. His very keen eye finds moments of visual harmony in often very unexpected places, such as the appearance of a fluorescent light tube leaning out of a trash can in front of a crosswalk. These photographs are formal studies, and if you allow yourself to look past the literal objects presented, there's a wonderful chorus of line, shape, color, and space.
Chris Akin, For Dan Flavin, from the series New York, 2010. (Photo by BP)
Akin's images are the closest to abstraction in the exhibition, and I'm sure that's why I respond to them as well as I do. The painter in me sees the shapes and pattern in his photos and thinks about Ellsworth Kelly and the trapeze swings (and this subsequent Red Blue Green painting). Those more knowledgeable in photography – and the artist himself – reference the work of William Eggleston as an obvious influence. I fully admit to not knowing much about Eggleston, so after viewing the show I did some internet research and found this wide-ranging interview with the photographer. At one point, he declares that you can't teach composition, and that's exactly the strength of Akin's images.
The exhibition literature reveals that Akin also draws and paints, and his photographs certainly reference an abstract painter's strategy in composing a canvas. I was caught off guard by my own enthusiasm towards these photographs, but I came to realize that if I worked more with traditional photography, these are the types of images I would try to make.
Chris Akin, Sink Behind Dominic's Fresh Produce, Moss Landing, California, from the series Who's Afraid of California, 2009. (Photo by BP)
During my first visit to Nowhere Near Here, I ventured upstairs using the back stairwell, which led me directly into Austin artist Mike Osborne's oversized photographs of Houston streets. They're really big for photographs – 44" x 55" – and are presented in a rather unique fashion. Rather than framing these inkjet prints (which would clearly cost a hefty sum), Fotofest and Osborne have mounted them directly to the wall thanks to four small magnets and some strategically placed screws embedded into the drywall. Osborne took these images with a tripod-mounted, large-format view camera, which allows for greater control over perspective issues and a higher amount of detail (and thus larger prints).
There is clearly some bravado in this work, with the prints being as large as they are and presented in an unprotected manner. I like that bravado, but for all the effort that must go into to capturing these images with a large format camera, I'm not sure the subject matter always warrants the oversized treatment. For instance, there's a photo of a group of policemen standing around a car. It's a familiar type of image to anyone who watches a local news program or reads a local paper, except here the image is nearly 4 x 5 feet. It reads a bit like a snapshot, and I struggle to find the advantage of having this image printed so large. Is it simply big for big's sake?
Installation view of Mike Osborne. Left: HPD, 2010. Right: Pennzoil Place, 2010. (Photo by BP)
Hanging directly right of the policemen image, however, is a striking photo of the entrance to Philip Johnson and John Burgee's Pennzoil Place towers. Here, devoid of figures and a narrative, the focus is squarely on the patterns created by the architecture and Osborne's framing. This image works at this larger size, and I found myself thinking of Sarah Morris' geometric paintings, which often take their cues from skyscrapers and the urban grid. Here again, my subconscious traces an aesthetic of a photograph back to abstract painting, but at least in this case – as opposed to with Akin's images downstairs – the scale of the work makes for a more immediate comparison to painting.
Mike Osborne, Weed Wacker on Gray Street, 2010. (Photo by BP)
Pennzoil Place is my favorite image from Osborne, but there are others that largely shift away from figurative representation and focus more on pattern and shape. Weed Wacker on Grey Street does have a figure in it, but the stark building facade and accompanying cast shadows make for a really interesting formal study of pattern and line. Yet for all of the interest I have in that piece, Osborne also offers up Man from the Back, which is a huge print of the back of a man's head. Perhaps the lines in his hair are visually interesting, but I'm not convinced it's a photo warranting an oversized reproduction.
The final work I encountered on my visit was that of Japanese-born, San Antonio artist Mimi Kato, whose One Ordinary Day of an Ordinary Town is a visual tour de force and unlike anything else in Nowhere Near Here. For this massive piece, Kato has blended hundreds of photographs of individual characters into a brightly-colored, illustrated cityscape. Comprised of 3 scenes (of three panels each), the piece portrays the bustling activities of a town in morning, afternoon, and evening. Each of the nine individual panels is quite large – 43"w x 74"h – and the scale of the work, combined with Kato's illustrative style and composition strategies, promotes an aesthetic of a modern-day japanese tapestry. Unfortunately, Fotofest lacks the 32 uninterrupted feet necessary to hang them all together, so Scene 3: Rosy Tomorrow is hung separate from the first six panels.
Installation view of Mimi Kato's One Ordinary Day of an Ordinary Town, 2010. (Photo by BP)
Aside from the interesting contrast between the photographic figures and the rather flatly illustrated backgrounds, what a viewer quickly realizes is that all of the characters in these scenes are played by the same person. My assumption was this was the artist (and that turned out to be correct), but such assumptions are not always wise to make. In this case, however, the woman seen getting dressed in the apartment above the restaurant, the group of people brawling in the street at the vegetable stand, and even the rabbit stealing a carrot from the garden are all played by Kato. Such role-playing immediately recalls the work of Cindy Sherman, while the compositing of a figure into a fictional landscape reminded me of French photographer Gilbert Garcin, who recently showed at Fotofest as part of Matter of Wit.
Mimi Kato, Scene 1: Golden Sky, Golden Start (detail), 2010. (Photo by BP)
Kato's statement gives further insight into her characters and the physical spaces represented in One Ordinary Day in an Ordinary Town, but the piece is engrossing even without the backstory. Her self-described "one-person performance" is unique, humorous, and captivating. I was actually happy to have seen Kato's work last while visiting Nowhere Near Here, as it provided an unexpected and memorable finish.
There are many more artists in the exhibition than I have singled out here, and I would encourage anyone to take in this latest installment of the Talent in Texas series. Nowhere Near Here continues at both Fotofest and Houston Center for Photography through April 23rd.
