Showing posts with label Karin Broker. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Karin Broker. Show all posts

Saturday, May 10, 2014

Be “More Nice” Bitch: A Talk with Karin Broker

Virginia Billeaud Anderson

In 2013 Michael Petry, Director of London’s Museum of Contemporary Art, published Nature Morte: Contemporary Artists Reinvigorate the Still-Life Tradition, which reveals in over 400 illustrations how leading 21st century artists have reinvigorated the genre previously synonymous with 17th century Old Masters. Included with Hockney, Twombly, Hirst and others is Houston based Karin Broker (b. 1950.) Broker’s exhibition, Karin Broker: damn girls, is currently at McClain Gallery through May 31 and on May 24 she opens Karin Broker: wired, pressed and nailed at the Art Museum of Southeast Texas in Beaumont. This, the fact that her parakeet crapped on the late Hilton Kramer’s suit, and flawless draftsmanship, inspired a recent studio visit.

Virginia Billeaud Anderson: The large scale floral drawings at McClain are unerringly fine, but it took only a minute for me to be creeped out by the background text that spoke of that repulsive man who imprisoned the three women in Cleveland.

Karin Broker: And then the coward hung himself instead of staying alive to be raped in prison every day for the rest of his life.

VBA: A collector asked me the meaning of the marks on the table sculpture, which I said certainly relate to the Cleveland kidnapping.

KB: That’s correct. I artistically imagined Michelle Knight, Amanda Berry, Gina De Jesus marking off their days in captivity, all those years they were kept from their families. Those women were in dark rooms and at times chained to the walls, beaten and starved to induce miscarriages when made pregnant by the rapes. One was forced to deliver the other’s child. The table also references Elizabeth Smart and also Jaycee Dugard, who was held captive for 18 years, and had two daughters by that evil man who took her.

VBA: There’s nothing like overlaying an ordinary domestic object with tragic content to disarm a viewer. I had to rub my hand across the table top to know it was printed. How is metal printed?

KB: The table was certainly meant to disarm, even by way of fancy, dressed-up women sitting on the cold hard steel to read about others, and I imagine if enough sit there the images will become worn and faded. The table is etched, which involves coating its surface with an acid resistant hard ground, and also surrounding it with a wooden structure so the top actually floats in its own bath of nitric acid. After drawing images through the wax I etched the surface, inked the incised lines and marks and then ground the surface again to polish.


Karin Broker, picture pretty, 2014, Conte on formica with leather bound book, 84 x 60 x 3”

VBA: In the same vein, describe your Conte drawing process. Do you make preliminary sketches or project an image, and it must require a ladder or repositioning the large panels so you can reach?

KB: No preliminary sketches or images are projected. I begin by rubbing Conte dust with a rag to map out an image, until I get "something" then add to it like a puzzle. Initially I’m on a small stepstool, and after a rolling chair at my drafting table when detailing the flowers, I have a tool table and boards clamped to the edge. My chair, everything is on wheels.

VBA: One drawing includes a list of women institutionalized in a Magdalene Asylum laundry in Dublin. Does the number near each name represent age or years of incarceration?

KB: It’s age. In the Magdalene Asylums “fallen” women were forced to work. Those of childhood age were actually born there to incarcerated mothers. I regret I did not record all 30,000 names.

VBA: I was moved by the amount of research required to enumerate both accomplishments by and atrocities against women, as well as by the quantity of hand written text, which must have been enormously time consuming

KB: It was a huge amount of research. When I began studying the history of abuses against women and was reading such things as 80% of those killed in the Inquisition were women, I got depressed. So I began researching in the other direction, reading, watching films, following Google links, and learned women were pirates and warriors, and was astounded by their courage and accomplishments, for example the Russian “Night Witches” who dropped bombs on Germany. I would alternate a couple of ten to twelve-hour days of writing with some days of research, and it was very difficult, and whenever it seemed too much I would think, Karin you bitch, if you can’t endure so much less than women who were tortured, raped and killed, breasts ripped off, all these horrific things, that’s pathetic. If my art helps one abused woman to know there’s a network of women to offer empathy and support, maybe even fight for her, I’m proud.

VBA: Text such as “A 19 year old gang rape victim was sentenced to six months in jail and 200 lashes for violating Saudi Arabia’s Sharia law on segregation of the sexes” is straight-forward. “Good girls good girls good girls good girls” on the other hand is provocatively less so.

KB: What’s sad is so many men still categorize women that way. If a woman has her own opinion she is not a “good girl.” A good girl in Pakistan is one who doesn’t read or study, only cooks, cleans and has sex. I was told once in my position as university Department Chair to be “more nice.”

VBA: The art made a few men uncomfortable.

KB: Look, I’m not anti-men. I love men. I actually love their bodies, I love looking at them, those incredible chests, their butts, although most men would insist it’s their genitals women pay attention to. It makes sense that some men are fearful of the thought of women standing up to them and refusing to be disrespected.

It was actually Bob McClain who encouraged me to go in this direction. We were discussing this drawing exhibition and he told me that as long as he has known my work he has felt my feminist side, that I was quite the strong female, and suggested I “kick it up a notch,” just put it out there. Well I left him totally energized, said OK, no shit, and told my assistant John all my ideas. This is the first show I’ve ever had that dealt not just with me but with all women. I’m extremely grateful to Bob and so proud to be working with them.


Karin Broker, nice and quiet, 2013, conte on formica with leather bound book, 84 x 60 x 3”

VBA: Of all the crazy stuff I’ve heard from artists, you might win the prize for your story about Sister Jacinta offering you an exorcism, let a priest chase out “disturbances.” Did you find that insane?

KB: Oh god no. Exorcism was just part of the whole Catholic thing – saints, spirits. Remember “Rosemary’s Baby?” There’s not a Catholic who would think that’s weird. You see, even if you’re non-practicing, this stuff stays with you. When my studio was completed we had a priest come to bless it. There we all were, standing in a circle with lit candles around us, you would’ve thought we were practicing voodoo.

VBA: When I read that the answer to your mother’s prayer was for you to get the stigmata I wondered if she desired for you other qualities associated with mystics, sweating blood in trance like Catherine of Siena or levitating like Padre Pio.

KB: My mother loved Padre Pio. She kept a large picture of him.

VBA: I was in Sicily in October and found his picture in all the pizzerias and taxi cabs. Where I’m from in south Louisiana some of those overly pious families turn out a few nutty children. How come you’re not more peculiar?

KB: My childhood was turbulent, but I was a very logical kid. My family didn't have much, it was intense, screaming and yelling, my aunt had thirteen kids. Things were very intense, and I was pretty isolated, but as a kid it seemed logical, I knew, that if I leave this, it will be better, I don’t have to be crazy, don’t have to scream. Everyone has a purpose, I might hate myself when I read this, but if I connect the dots, it is my childhood that brought me to this point. Think about this - if I had not been lonely as a child, or had not had to make do with little, I would not enjoy all the time I spend alone working, and I would not be as creative with the use of materials. And also childhood fed my feelings for justice and fairness. During the 50’s and 60’s in small towns things were kind of unfair for girls, I was treated unfairly. I see my purpose as using my art to help other women feel strong.

The view of women was warped. I remember in college the Sisters of Charity telling the girls that to keep a husband you need to have a child immediately, and if it is not a boy, you need to immediately have another one. I left that college after my junior year.

Sometimes I rebelled. My grandfather was from Italy, and the Italian side of the family would have these reunions and after the visiting and eating the heads of the extended family would have a “meeting.” Years back, I was living here and teaching at Rice, I went to a reunion and of course was the only woman who wasn’t married, and decided to attend the meeting, figured I would pay my dues and do the newsletter. Well my uncle told me to get out. He said, “no girls allowed this year.” So I told them what I thought, “even a dog could go into that meeting, even some man I casually fucked.” And now I’ve gone and said “fuck,” and you’ll quote me.

VBA: This is Pan sweetie, “fuck” is appropriate.

KB: The family was shocked and totally silenced. I grabbed my stuff and left the reunion. That evening things exploded. My cousin reported reported it was like a match to dynamite, it shook up the family. He said their meeting lasted until three in the morning, with heated exchanges, some of the women asserted themselves, and my uncle stepped down as head of the family. It changed the family dynamic.


Karin Broker, Finding Jesus, 2009, Antique Christ figure, wood, wire, crystals, rhinestones and miscellaneous, 17.5” h x 4.5” w x 4.5” d

VBA: You make three-dimensional artworks that include Catholic ritualistic objects such as rosary beads. They mirror a jewel-like aesthetic, yet the unrefined, fake stones and dark content negate the notion of beauty. I’m thinking of the bead-covered crucifixion sculpture Finding Jesus, and the three-dimensional “hearts” made of beads, rhinestones and religious metals. Say something about their ritualistic source, and incongruence.

KB: Ritual is fundamental. I used to play classical piano (points to a baby grand piano), and when I was a child I played the organ in church, and went there every night to practice. The priests didn’t want the lights on, so votive candles illuminated the church and the ceiling was covered with painted images. I absorbed this atmosphere in a deep way, the look and mystery of the place. This was more than a eureka moment, it was a huge revelation, to be in seventh grade and be aware of my first art installation. This all took place before the Vatican ecumenical council. After Vatican II that ceiling ended up being painted white, because a bunch of cardinals surrounded by Renaissance and Baroque art decided some American churches should be painted white. I’ll never forgive them for that. But I knew the power of that environment. I also sang, all the Latin masses, I was the good girl, and I loved, loved, that I could make people cry. I even had a huge statue of the Virgin Mary because I was going to be a nun, probably because I desired peace and quiet. Rosary pieces and rhinestones appear frequently in my art, and I associate them with the glitz and surface stuff that distracts many, such as when looking at a girl, and also with water drops, and particles of fractured light. The crucifixion in Finding Jesus was an antique from Mexico, very old and expensive, and I distorted it with beads on wires that pierced the figure to speak of a bigger theme and symbolize the abundance of “stuff,” money, power, you’re supposed to hate gays, all the other stuff projected onto Jesus. It should be so simple and pure – be kind, love one another – what covers the figure is all prickly and makes it difficult to see. It’s all “too much.” My “hearts” have colored beads wired together. We all have sadness in life. My sister Pam died six years ago of breast cancer, and my brother died a year ago of pancreatic cancer, so by putting all that together I was artistically mending a heart.

VBA: When I saw the clusters of blue and black rhinestones that cover Black & Blue Boys, my mind went instantly to the jewel-covered chalices and reliquaries you see in church vaults all over Italy. The viewer is jolted by that artwork’s visual drama, but its pistol hints at ominous content.

KB: That box is not pretty, it symbolizes being hit, beaten and bruised, which happens to women and young girls.

VBA: Let’s talk about your up-coming museum show, what are you showing?

KB: The opening reception is Friday, May 30, from 6-8pm, and it runs through August 31. I plan to show eight collages, sixteen gravure collages, nine boxes, seven nailed two-dimensional pieces and 24 three-dimensional wired objects on boxes.

VBA: And another book is coming out.

KB: The Contemporary Drawing and Painting Bible, also by Thames & Hudson, is scheduled for publication early Spring 2015.

VBA: I bet you never thought this neighborhood would become all gentile and expensive, it’s unrecognizable from when I hung out here in the early eighties. Back then there were knife fights at the bar on the corner of Knox and Washington. My car was stolen a few blocks from here.

KB: It’s totally transformed.

VBA: Remember how cold the beer was at Roznovsky’s? Because I spent a lot of time there I did a painting of their façade as a gift, and it was awful, but Mrs. Roz thought it was boo-tee-ful, and hung it over the door. Very few of the old houses, like yours, are left, and your studio is splendid.

KB: I loved Roznovsky’s. I actually built my studio in two days, got artists to come help, it was like an old fashion barn-raising, and then I took time to finish the inside.

VBA: How do you decide what to make here and what to make at the farm? I heard you have horses.

KB: We have two dogs, four horses, one pony, one miniature donkey, and six cats. I make everything at the farm, and then move it back it here. The studio there is new, and so great, so I work there, except for the steel work, all the welding is done here in Houston.


Karin Broker, We Come Bearing Gifts, 2010, Cast metal, wire, crystals, rhinestones, gold, semi-precious stones, 13 h x 9.5 w x 3.5 d

VBA: Karin, your articulation is uncompromising, a point critically made by everyone who has written about you. Many “famous” artists lack your skill. Describe your training.

KB: I have been drawing since seventh grade, with equal time devoted to drawing and print making throughout college and graduate school, and had the good fortune to encounter better and better instructors.

VBA: It can be seen that the new conte drawings achieve expressiveness through slight distortion of form. And I recall overreaching voluminous shapes in the 2010 florals on paper

KB: Expressive yes, I wanted the new works to look like they were moving and weeping, as a cathartic thing for the women killed. I was also trying to make these robust florals “weep” so I let the black Conte drip. The McClain drawings I consider to be like paintings. My flowers are meant as sensual forms grabbing at you for attention and as objects that feel "too much," "too overwhelming." And you got it, I exaggerated forms in the 2010 works, they were made voluptuous to be “too much.”


Karin Broker, 3 fat boys, 2010, Conte on paper, 75.5 x 50

VBA: There were important things happening in New York when you were a student, Twombly’s 1979 Whitney Museum retrospective is only one example. Who were you looking at, which artists influenced your development?

KB: I was going to New York and looking at everything and loved looking, but the art didn’t influence me. Instead I was inspired by the weirdest things, people for instance, someone yelling at their kid, I wrote it down and it entered my art. I remember having great difficulty with a print series in graduate school until I simply began to incorporate what I saw around me. As the print shop assistant I took a bit of abuse, so if someone treated me like crap, I made a print about it. It’s not that I illustrated it, but visualized it, which was so emotional, personal, the art succeeded.

Similarly with Europe, I go often, Paris where I studied is my favorite, I embraced it, so different from Penn, Pennsylvania, but the art didn’t inspire me, transsexuals and hookers on the other hand got my attention, I completely responded to those things. By focusing on what’s around me my art in a way recycles memories, it represents periods of time, in the same way someone’s photographs of their kids mark time. That sculpture near you contains all of my husband’s contact lenses, to mark the passage of time, and more will be added. Weirdly I’ve kept all my old boyfriends’ letters, everything written by the bad boyfriends, I saved it, and the letters inspire me and are important to my character, they represent a broad spectrum of memory. I saved all of my dad’s letters and glued them on my art, my art is a response to things around me.

But there is one artist who directly influenced me. At the Whitney or somewhere I came across a book called The Nazi Drawings by Mauricio Lasansky and the drawings were phenomenal. I had never seen that before, that level of skill, with a profoundly serious topic, the holocaust, shocking rape scenes, it was enormously impactful, so I found Lasansky at the University of Iowa, and went there for my undergraduate senior year. I don’t think I knew where Iowa was, or the difference between Iowa and Ohio, well Iowa’s on the plains and it’s freezing cold, but I experienced his drawing first hand, not a lot of other stuff has inspired me, except film, newspaper, people’s behavior.

Oh, I do take inspiration from Gael Stack, I love that quality of line in her work, her stuff seeps in to my consciousness, I think I memorized that jittery mark she makes. And James Drake is exquisite in conte, Drake is the only other person I look at. I love his red conte, we seem to parallel each other in line quality and in the love of good drawing, he inspires me to be a bold draftsman.

VBA: So your ill-bred parakeet met the famous art critic.

KB: The bird jumped on Hilton Kramer’s shoulder and pooped, and I was certain he would remember only the mess instead of my art, but it turned out he remembered my art and praised it.


Karin Broker, Two Sisters, 2005, Cast metal, paint, wire, crystals, rhinestones and miscellaneous, 7.5 w x 19 h x 5 d x 2

Good Girls Bad Girls Damn Girls

Robert Boyd

 
Karin Broker, Good Girls Bad Girls, 2013, conte on formica with leather bound book, 84 x 60 inches

When you walk into Karin Broker's new exhibit, damn girls, you see a room full of flowers. These are very large drawings done on formica. She taught Rice students (like me) back in the early 80s to cover masonite with gesso that had been repeatedly sanded until it was perfectly smooth. It forms a beautifully hard surface for the Conte. In this case, she drew directly on the formica, which must form an equally hard surface.

Broker has done a lot of pictures of flowers over the years. They tend to be like this--oversized and dramatic. Still, pictures of flowers, no matter how beautifully done, fall into the realm of "pretty things." They fundamentally appear as bourgeois decoration. The old academies ranked them well below important subjects like religious paintings and history paintings. And because they've been a favorite subject for Broker for so long, it feels comfortable and familiar for a viewer to walk into a room full of her flower drawings.

 
Karin Broker, Picture Pretty, 2014, conte on formica with leather bound book, 84 x 60 inches

Talk about a bait and switch. The subject of this show is not pretty flowers. It's women in their glory and their long mistreatment by men. These are, in fact, history paintings--painful histories. Behind Broker's exquisite craftsmanship and beautiful drawing, this show seethes with anger.


Karin Broker, fighting pretty, 2013, conte on formica with leather bound book, 84 x 60 inches

A drawing like fighting pretty appears from the distance a picture of flowers against a mottled, streak off-white ground. It's only when you get close and (if you're like me) don your reading glasses that you see that it is covered with text.


Karin Broker, fighting pretty, 2013, conte on formica with leather bound book, 84 x 60 inches

In this case, it's a list of women soldiers and warriors throughout history. This is one of the themes in the show, and one of the chapters in the book Broker compiled and printed for the show, also titled damn girls. In addition, she has chapters on inspirational women ("good girls bad girls"); imprisoned women, particularly those in Magdalene Asylums and girls imprisoned by psychopaths ("nice & quiet"); women who were killed for being "witches" ("too hot"); women who cross social/legal boundaries created by sexism ("belle story"); and objectification of women ("nosegay"). The book is full of uncomfortable facts and figures, disturbing anecdotes, hateful aphorisms--as well as inspirational material. It's a handbook or almanac, meant to be browsed rather than read straight through. (Given that 20 copies were produced, one could say that it is not meant to be read at all. But perhaps the text will be made more widely available--as an e-book, for example.)


Karin Broker, damn girls


Karin Broker, damn girls

Some lovely thoughts by a few of the intellectual authors of Western civilization are included in the book. They make you sick and embarrassed to read them.



Karin Broker, damn girls

Each chapter has a brief introduction by Broker. A chapter on women burned as witches and heretics opens with a personal story:
My mother is an ardent Catholic.
I told her about my recent doctor visit. The tops of my feet and the backs of my hands have been burning hot for months now. They feel as if they are being torched.
After having a thin needle inserted into various spots on my leg and arm the doctor proclaimed that he was 100% positive that I did not have neuropathy. I flippantly remarked that since I’ve been looking hard at what I see has been a difficult relationship between women and the church over the centuries that maybe my heated extremities would develop stigmata as a form of punishment or Christian retribution.
Stigmata is a term used by members of the Christian faith to describe body marks, sores, or sensations of pain in locations corresponding to the crucifixion wounds of Jesus Christ, such as the hands, wrists, and feet. A high percentage (possibly 80%) of all stigmatics are women.
Telephoning my mother I mentioned what I had jokingly said to my doctor about developing such sores. Mom’s heartfelt response was “that would be the answer to my prayers”.


Karin Broker, damn girls

The idea that women and girls are held, often for years, as sex slaves in contemporary America has a special horror for us. These news stories hold our dread attention even when we want to turn away. Elizabeth Smart. Jaycee Dugard. Michelle Knight. Amanda Berry. Gina DeJesus. Personally, no horror novel could ever compare to the feeling I got reading Emma Donoghue's Room, a chillingly believable fictional account of a woman held captive by such a madman.  Broker wants you to think about these girls. The raw facts are in the book, but even more potent is too hot, too cold, a table and six chairs, made of steel, and inscribed with writing.


Karin Broker, too hot, too cold, 2014, steel table and six chairs, table 30 x 60 x 36 inches, chairs 35 x 18 x 16.5 inches each.

too hot, too cold is a very uninviting dinner table. Cold hard steel and sharp corners demand a certain carefulness on the part of viewers. The flat surfaces are inscribed with scratchy little marks.


Karin Broker, too hot, too cold, 2014, steel table and six chairs, table 30 x 60 x 36 inches, chairs 35 x 18 x 16.5 inches each.

At first, it's hard to see what the marks on the table are. They make a kind of pattern and give the table a texture.


Karin Broker, too hot, too cold (detail), 2014, steel table and six chairs, table 30 x 60 x 36 inches, chairs 35 x 18 x 16.5 inches each.

Then when you bend down and look closely, you see thousands--tens of thousands-- of hashmarks, like the cartoon image of a prisoner in a dungeon counting the days as they pass by marking them on the wall. Each hashmark does in fact represent a day--a day that a girl was held captive as a sex-slave by a psychopath. Etched into steel, suggests that Broker wants to make sure these dreadful occurances aren't swept under the carpet of history. And Broker wants you also to remember the names of women held as slaves in Magdalene Asylums, so she writes those down in steel, too. It's overwhelming.


Karin Broker, too hot, too cold (detail), 2014, steel table and six chairs, table 30 x 60 x 36 inches, chairs 35 x 18 x 16.5 inches each.

The six chairs relate to the six chapters in the book. The table and chairs, though much more modest in scale, will remind one of The Dinner Table by Judy Chicago. Two tables, two works of feminist art. But The Dinner Table is beautiful. Indeed, it intends to overwhelm the viewer with its beauty. It has place settings for a group of women from history and myth, honoring each one with a gorgeous and unique table setting. It is a banquet, an impossible sacra conversazione amongst the great women of history. It is a lush work.

The cold grey steel of too hot, too cold is quite different. There are no beautiful table settings here, no embroidered table cloth or floor coverings. The furniture is minimal, uncomfortable and slightly threatening. It belongs in a prison or an institution. Its virtue is that it it is indestructible. It will survive. Five hundred years from now, when the threads in The Dinner Party's embroideries have frayed and faded, and the ceramic place settings are broken and chipped, too hot, too cold will still be here. It's cold chairs and unyielding table top will say, "Fuck you. We survived."


Karin Broker, I/Eye Gone, 1995, etched steel bench, 48 x 15 x 19 inches

Broker includes two more pieces of steel furniture in the exhibit. I/Eye Gone includes an etched image--a self-portrait?--where the face has been erased.


Karin Broker, Taking Self, 1995, etched steel bench, 48 x 15 x 19 inches

Taking Self, on the contrary, is entirely autobiographical. With drawings and blocks of hand-written text, Broker outlines her entire life on the surface of this metal bench.


Karin Broker, Taking Self, 1995, etched steel bench, 48 x 15 x 19 inches

In choosing this medium, Broker says that her story, too, will survive. She's written it in solid steel. I am reminded of the main character in Will Self's novel, The Book of Dave. In the book, Dave perversely writes the story of his life, his custody battle and his futile career as a men's rights activist on steel plates, accidentally creating the foundational documents for a future post-apocalyptic misogynist religion in the process. Maybe that's what Broker has done here. She has created an uneffaceable women's history, tablets that some future Joseph Smith--or perhaps Josephine Smith--will find and found a new religion with.


Karin Broker, left: my white skin, off white and right: my white skin I, 2014, monoprint and collage, 27.75 x 39.25 each

In the end, flowers wither and fade (but with luck, are ever renewed). The lives of women come to an end. But steel endures at least a little while longer.

 Damn Girls is on view at McClain Gallery through May 31.

Thursday, August 16, 2012

Pan Recommends for the week of August 16 through August 22

It's Thursday, and that means that Pan has recommendations for the weekend and beyond for you. Here are a few things that caught our eye.

LAYOVER: Houston Airport System Portable Artwork Collection at Space 125 Gallery, 5:30 to 7:30 Thursday, August 16. This show has been open for a while, but tonight is the official reception for it. This is art from the Houston Airport System. It includes work by many of our favorite local artists, including Karin Broker, Jeff Forster, Jonathan Leach, Randy Twaddle and more!

Word Around Town wraps up this week with readings tonight (8 pm) at Secret Word Cafe, tomorrow (8 pm) at the Ripley-Baker Neighborhood Center and Saturday (8 pm) at Dean's Credit Clothing. Literary events are usually outside our bailiwick, but Dean Liscum is live-blogging WAT this year, and Dean's one of us.

Diverse Works garage sale, Friday, August 17, 9 am - 5 pm and Saturday, August 18, 9 am - 12 pm. I'm sure all of you have heard the blessed news that Diverse Works is moving to Midtown (not to the proposed Independent Arts Collaborative--at least, not yet). They've been in their current converted warehouse location for over a hundred years (roughly--I'm too lazy to look it up) and have acquired a bunch of crap they don't want to take with them. Now's your chance to own stuff that Diverse Works doesn't want anymore!

Experimental Eye at the Aurora Picture Show, curated by Kelly Sears, 8 pm, Saturday, August 18. Awesome animator Kelly Sears has put together this festival of short experimental animated movies, which includes one by one of our favorite cartoonists, Lilli Carré. Should be excellent!

These are what we're looking forward to--what about you? Please feel free to add events in the comments!


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Wednesday, February 8, 2012

Roadtrip: Beaumont & Galveston

by Robert Boyd

I went to Beaumont with a specific goal, to see the Robert Pruitt exhibit, and with a general goal, to see what the Art Museum of Southeast Texas was all about. I'm used to big city museums. The only small city museums I am familiar with are the Portland Art Museum and the Tampa Museum of Art. But compared to Beaumont, those two cities are giants (Portland has 580 thousand, Tampa has 336 thousand and Beaumont has 119 thousand). Portland and Tampa nonetheless had eccentric museums where you could see how one collector or a small group of local collectors influenced the collection. If this is the case with AMSET, it wasn't obvious.

The museum is located on Main St. in downtown Beaumont. It's long been said Houston's downtown is a ghost town on weekends. That's become less true over time, but it's not an unjust criticism. But Houston is Manhattan compared to the desolation I encountered in downtown Beaumont on Saturday afternoon. Main St. is a broad boulevard. On one side was the Beaumont Civic Center and on the other was AMSET and the Texas Energy Museum. I parked in the vast, empty Civic Center parking lot. There were no crosswalks--they were unnecessary because there was no traffic. For a place that is the civic heart of the city, it was eerily deserted.


David Cargill, Men of Vision, bronze, 6'6" x 7'5" x 4'6", 1995

This sculpture by David Cargill graces the front to the Texas Energy Museum. Weirdly enough, the people it honors, Vic, Sol, Ben and Nate Rogers had nothing to do with the energy industry--they were the founders of Texas State Optical (Men of Vision. Geddit?)

For a civic "great men" sculpture, this one has a loose, jazzy feel that is uncommon. The figures are not realistic--they have a rubbery, cartoony feel. But certain details have a truthfulness to them that trump mere realism. The sense of forward motion, the gestures, the way the figure on the left tilts his head. I like this somewhat wacky sculpture a lot.

AMSET is a small museum. When I was there, they had two temporary exhibits going on: This Rejection of the Conqueror: Works by Robert Pruitt and Meredith Jack: Back in Black. I discuss the Robert Pruitt show on Glasstire.


Meredith Jack installation view

Meredith Jack, a retired sculpture professor from Lamar University in Beaumont, works in cast iron and steel. These pieces are recent and made of steel.


Meredith Jack, Truth Table, steel, 58" x 58" x 25", 2011

Truth Table was a piece that made a big impression on me when I saw it at an exhibit at Williams Tower. The table is topped with checkered non-slip steel flooring, which is often used in industrial settings--particularly in oil facilities (refineries, offshore platforms, etc.) The hat says Texas. But the most intriguing part of the sculpture are the broken columns. They recall the classical world (although their shape is not typical of Greek fluted columns), but by being broken they add a meaning. In the 18th and early 19th century, there was something of a fad for ruins, which were described as picturesque. English landowners often designed their gardens to include ruins, whether real ruins of medieval structures on their land, or ersatz ruins acquired just for look. Piranesi's etching of ruins were popular art objects for travelers. Ruins were bittersweet reminders of destroyed civilizations; they carried a lesson of humility (not well-heeded, perhaps) to the new young empire of Great Britain. The ruined statue in the poem "Ozymandias" by Shelley offers such a lesson.

I wonder if Jack is doing the same thing here. Beaumont, like Houston, is an oil town--it is the location of Spindletop, the first really big oil well, an event that sent America and the world on a path of oil-dependence. The empire of oil was founded here, you might say. I see this piece as a reminder that empires end.


Meredith Jack, Snake Woman 2, steel, 108" x 29.5" x 19", 2011

The two Snake Woman sculptures are more enigmatic. It may refer to Cihuacoatl, the Aztec fertility goddess, and the two pieces do look like temple statuary. Their relentless blackness gives them a sinister appearance. Whatever the meaning of the work, it has a disquieting presence.

It was fantastic to see Meredith Jack's work, and Beaumont should be proud to have him. But one thing I noticed about AMSET was how much of the art in their collection (at least the art that was on display on the day I was there) is from Houston. I know the sensation of visiting the CAMH or the MFAH and feeling like Houston is just an artistic colony of New York or Europe. So I was surprised to see Houston as the colonizer in Beaumont.


clockwise from the top left: Karen Broker, Vessel Question, conte on formica, 1992; Ibsen Espada, Gladiator, oil on canvas, 1988; Sarah Williams, MoDOT, oil on panel, 2010; Al Souza, May Be Bay Bees, puzzle pieces on wood, 2003; Burt Long, Dama, mixed media, 1981

All these paintings are by Houston artists, except MoDOT, which is by an artist represented by McMurtrey Gallery in Houston. I didn't do a thorough count, but my impression was that most of the art on display in the museum that day had a Houston connection. And I was glad to see these pieces, especially the Karin Broker Vessel Question, which shows off her supernatural drawing ability which I've loved ever since I was an undergrad in her printing class.

But where were the Beaumont artists? It turns out that one Beaumont artist had a gallery to himself for a permanent installation.


Felix "Fox" Harris, installation, mixed media, approximately 1955-1985

Felix "Fox" Harris's story is not atypical for outsider artists. Born in 1905, he was an illiterate laborer (but fairly successful--he worked as a foreman for a construction crew). When he retired, he had a vision of God presenting him with two pieces of paper, one brown and dirty with age and one white. God told him that the brown piece was his old life, and the white piece was his new life, which he now must live. Harris interpreted this as a sign to make this forest of objects in his lawn. After he died, a group of admirers made sure the work ended up here at AMSET.


Kieth Carter, photo of Felix "Fox" Harris

It's interesting to note that the three Golden Triangle area artists whose work I saw all work (or worked) with metal; Cargil and Jack with cast metal, and Harris with metal assemblage. Now given the nature of my trip (parachute in for a few hours and leave), I can't conclude anything about art there. I can't even conclude that much about the museum--it had a lot of Houston art on display that day, but I have no idea if that is representative of its whole collection. So I'm going to hold off on any big conclusions about art in the Golden Triangle. What I'm writing here is a first impression, and first impressions can be mistaken.

I left the downtown area via Calder Ave. It looked like a major street, and indeed was a big big broad avenue. But it was surprisingly empty. I wonder if there was some big event in Beaumont that Saturday that sucked the population away from the center of the city.

I drove back towards Houston on I-10 until I got to Winnie, where I turned south on 124 towards the coast. When you head sound on I-45 to Galveston, you don't really get an idea of what the coastal plain is like because it's so built up. But on 124, the flatness is unrelenting. Marsh and dry land fade into one another.



At the end of 124 is the town of High Island, an unexpected bit of terrain popping up out of the flatness. It's a quaint little town (not actually an island, though), best known as a mecca for birders, but it has chilling memories for me. In 1973, mass murderer Dean Corll was killed by one of his associates. Corll had been luring boys to his house, raping and murdering them. He buried some of them under his candy-making factory in the heights, and when that became too full of corpses, he started burying them in other places, including out here in High Island. I remember seeing the police digging them up there on TV. I was 10 years old. My relatives would warn me not to get into a car with someone who wanted to "party," an unnecessary warning since the idea of getting in the car with a stranger was utterly terrifying anyway.



Highway 124 ends and turns into 87, which runs the length of Bolivar Peninsula. This is one of the prettiest drives I know. Even though it was a cool day, I had to roll the window down and breath the Gulf air.



The trip was pleasant, but my destination was Galveston. My goal was to see the new Galveston Artist Residency, which was having a party that night. The building was near the Galveston Arts Center and Wagner Sousa Gallery. The GAR is a residence for three artists at a time. Each one gets a nice studio and an apartment a few blocks away. I don't know if they get any kind of living expenses. Right now, the three artists include two who just finished CORE residencies (Nick Barbee and Kelly Sears) and Nsenga Knight. The building has an exhibition space and a lovely courtyard in addition to the studios.


Galveston Artist Residencies building


GAR studios, seen from the outside


Nick Barbee's studio at GAR


GAR Gallery with Nick Barbe sculptures in front and a Kelly Sears video in the background



Nsenga Knight, photos from the Drowned series


Balcony overlooking the GAR gallery

All in all, GAR looks certain to be an important addition to the Galveston art scene and to the area art scene as a whole. It's worth the drive down from Houston, for sure.

I noticed a block north on Santa Fe Place was another tree stump sculpture. Of course, I added it to my map.


Trolley conductor tree stamp

The Galveston Arts Center had an opening that night as well. This small non-profit space is a key institution for contemporary art in Galveston. It mostly shows artists from outside Galveston, but has also given shows to Galveston-based artists Kamila Szszesna and Ann Wood. The current show is Charlotte Smith, a painter from Dallas who shows with Anya Tish.


Charlotte Smith, Milky Way IV, acrylic on canvas

As far as I can tell, Smith's thing is to pour thick liquid acrylic onto the canvas to create thick buttons of paint.


Charlotte Smith, Milky Way IV (detail), acrylic on canvas

The effect is to create a heavily textured all-over composition. I like these works, but they seem purely decorative. I don't feel like the artist is communicating anything to me beyond prettiness. And that's OK--pretty things are nice. I don't have any knee-jerk reaction to beauty, even though I often find I prefer ugly things. They both have their place in the world.


Charlotte Smith, Repeat Offender, acrylic on canvas

I like this one because it reminds me of patterns of fungus on a giant petri dish.

This was also the night of Galveston's Artwalk. Most of the galleries in Galveston are on Post Office, a few blocks away from the Galveston Arts Center and the GAR. And they are what you would expect--places that sell decorative items to tourists. Two deserve special mention.



This is Affaire d'Art International Gallery. The art was mostly pretty bad (imitations of better art), but what got me was the pompous name of the gallery. Its logo is a stylized fleur de lis. That night, they had a large ice carving of the logo in the gallery. Classy!

The other gallery was Peck Arts (mute your computer before you open this website). This gallery had a kind of tropical theme. The work they were showing was not cutting edge by a long shot--it, too, was purely decorative. But decorative in a specific way. If you have a big beach house on stilts out on West Beach, this might be the kind of art you want to decorate it.


Homer Allen, Wildflowers

These electric-colored wildflower paintings by Homer Allen, for example. You totally imagine them on the beach house wall, with some Jimmy Buffett on the stereo and the frozen margarita machine cranked up.


John Olvey, Bahama Mama, carved surfboard

And as for John Olvey, fire up the bong, baby. This surf board art is clever and very well-made. It'll never be in a museum, but it'd look great in a beach house!

It's easy for me to look down my nose at the art offered for sale in the galleries on Post Office, because I'm a highly educated art snob. But in terms of art that accomplishes what it sets out to do, I have no complaints about the art of Olvey and Allen. They're both really talented and both make art that seems ideally suited to beach culture. And these galleries are part of our weird fragmented art ecology. My tastes are going to generally lead me to GAR, but popping into Peck Gallery from time to time might be fun too. Especially after a margarita or three.


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