Dean Liscum: Five Pieces from the Big Show

Dean Liscum

My five (ok six)

In a very random order, here are my favorites.


Saralene Tapley, Flourish, 2013, acrylic on watercolor paper

The flourish of this piece by Saralene Tapley is ambiguous (artistic? fanciful? fey?) but the rendering isn't. The nuance, control, and subtle use of color are superb.


Julon Pinkston, Shirtless, Young and Catching Flesh, 2013, acrylic on wood panel, 10 x 7 x 2 inches

Julon Pinkston's work is one of those that I could have made in high school art class. It's got a haphazard, found object feel but sophisticated, balanced composition. Plus, he made it and neither I nor you did.


Chantal M. Wnuk, The Six Pound Weight in the Pit of My Stomach, 2012, charcoal, graphite and colored pencils on paper, 22 x 30 inches

Mix a little Francis Bacon with a little Chaim Soutine and it's guaranteed to stick in my gut.



 
Cintia Rico, Pod (Series Pod), 2012, Stoneware, soap, pigment and nylon fibers, 15 x 11 x 11 inches and 12 x 9 x 9 inches

Freud.

Plain and simple genital envy/lust. 'nuff said.

 
Mari Omori, Fieldwork: 2007-2012, 2013, 1 minute video loop

Mesmerizing. I'm not sure if it is mesmerizing because of the vertiginous stop-action photography, the scope of the work (the world as held by the artist's hand), the individual objects displayed, or the altered or want-to-be-altered state of the viewer. Nevertheless, my doubt is irrelevant. It's simply mesmerizing.


JooYoung Choi, Sacrifice of Putt-Putt, 2013, acrylic and paper on canvas, 75 x 70 inches

There is a part of me that longs for the regal, narrative mural style paintings that span time and place in illustrating a cultural icon's trials, tribulations, and ultimate sacrifice. This painting by Joo Young Choi appeals to that part of me, even though I'm clueless as to who Putt-Putt is other than the inventor of the only type of golf I can play.

Splat That! Ushio-style

Dean Liscum

On November 4, 2012, PG Contemporary gallery hosted a performance by a founding member of the Japanese Neo-Dadaist movement, Ushio Shinohara. Shinohara is Japanese by birth. He studied at the prestigious Tokyo Art University, but he grew disenchanted with the strict curriculum and left the school in 1957. His aesthetic veered toward pop-culture rendered in an expressionist style with a kaleidoscopic palette. This approach along with the Japanese art establishments traditionalist views drove him to relocate to New York in 1969.


Ushio before one of his paintings

According to Shinohara, the three tenants of speed, rhythm, and beauty unite his oeuvre, which spans different media and subject matter. The boxing painting, however, are far and above my favorite. He has performed them all over the world from MOMA to 3227 Milam Street. I had the pleasure of the viewing and video-taping him as he created one of his boxing paintings.


tools of the trade (above and below)



In this video, Ushiro explains to gallerist Zoya Tommy the impetus and evolution of his boxing paintings. Artist Mari Omori translates.



And here, Gyu-chan (Ushiro's nickname, which means roughly "young bull") splat's that big, old canvas with the exuberance and glee of someone an eighth of his age.



Sometimes, you just gotta see the artist splat that...and smile.

The Big Show 2012: Craft

Robert Boyd

In the first installment of my review of The Big Show, I suggested that for a change, painting wasn't the overwhelmingly dominant medium. So if painting is down for the year, was there a category or type of art that was up? Yes. Craft-based art was unusually well-repesented. Usually when you see craft in an art context, it carries along a conceptual underpinning that makes it acceptable within this context. You don't see much craft qua craft, craft judged primarily on its beauty and the skill of its execution. At least, you don't see it in venues like Lawndale.

Rosalind Speed, Textile, 2012, gas reduction fired porcelain clay

So it is kind of exciting that juror Marco Antonini made a point of including beautiful and intriguing pieces like Textile by Rosalind Speed. The grey and greenish colors are produced by iron in the clay through the gas reduction method. This effect, combined with the rough-hewn shape give Textile an unusually organic appearance. Speed isn't using ceramic techniques to tell us some other story--the ceramic techniques she uses are the whole point here. 

Henri Gadbois, Three Oysters and Orange and Peel, 2012, earthenware, resin and acrylic

When the artists were announced for the show, Henri Gadbois jumped out as one of the most surprising and pleasing inclusions. I'm sure he is the oldest artist in the show--Gadbois was born in 1930. He is someone who was prominent in the Houston art scene in the 1950s. I was primarily aware of him as a painter, but he has also been a ceramicist since his high school days. And it turns out he has a business, Faux Foods, making hyper-realistic ceramic foods. With these two pieces, Gadbois is showing not only his earthenware food, but by using resin and acrylic, he adds an additional layer of realism. They almost seem decadent, items delivered by room-service to a hotel suite occupied by two lovers. They are quite sensuous. And for me, they represent a link to the art history of Houston, something that is fitfully acknowledged locally. (If you want to know more about Houston's art history, see this video lecture by painter Richard Stout, this online book of interviews by Sarah Reynolds, and this timeline by Caroline Huber and The Art Guys.)

Matthew Glover, Now Is When I Wish It Was Autumn, 2012, knitted leaves

Matthew Glover knitted a small leaf storm for his installation Now Is When I Wish It Was Autumn in the stairwell between the first floor and the mezzanine. His previous work that I've seen was also knitted--large high-contrast black and white nudes. I mentioned the two fuzzy classes of craft--craft with some conceptual underpinning and craft qua craft. I don't want these artists to be stuck in these essentializing categories, but Glover definitely leans towards the conceptual side of the ledger. The myth of autumn is red leaves, brisk breezes and knit sweaters. Autumn in New England is the platonic ideal of the season. (And as a former resident of rural Massachusetts, autumn is what I miss most.) This ideal is a joke in Houston, where autumn is best characterized as a brief lessening of the volcanic heat of summer. In college, I had a leafy tree outside my dorm room. One November morning, I woke up to find that every single leaf had fallen off it overnight. My roommate turned to me and said, "Autumn's here." It wasn't exactly "Autumn Leaves." So Glover, using one signifier of autumn (warm wool clothes) simulates another signifier of autumn (beautiful red leaves). The result is beautiful, but for the full New England effect, he'd need a lot more leaves--and different varieties, too.

Matthew Glover, Now Is When I Wish It Was Autumn, 2012, knitted leaves

Wyatt John Little, Urban Flower Pot, 2012, low-fire cast ceramics, soil and plants

I think everyone who saw Wyatt John Little's Urban Flower Pot was delighted by it. No doubt not a few coveted it for their own hanging plants. This icon of urbanity--shoes tied together like a bolo, hanging from a power line--goes from eyesore to object of beauty here. The ceramic shoes are beautifully made, and each is perfectly balanced so that the plant is facing up. Wyatt John Little had another piece in the show (a collaboration with Julie Lundgren)--a sculptural object made from cast soap. So both his pieces are in media associated with craft, and both are witty and beautiful.

Mari Omori, Time Machine, 2012, soap and platter

Mari Omori's Time Machine is a collection of little geometric soap carvings in the center of shallow ceramic platter. The soap carvings have soft edges, the colors are off-white on white, and the entire piece is quite small. It's cute and clean. Omori has done other soap carvings which she calls soapworks. These parallel other series of works--teaworks and saltworks. These are substances that are simultaneously mundane and elemental. With Time Machine, the shapes recall weathered architecture from the deep past. One object appears to be an obelisk, which could be any number of Egyptian obelisks. Another resamples a specific object--the bent pyramid of Snefru. Assuming all the carvings represent ancient stone structures, the meaning of the title, Time Machine, becomes more clear.

Celia Butler, Sugar Gazing, 2011, C-print

Celia Butler is a former resident at the Houston Center for Contemporary Craft, and she uses sugar pulling, a technique that allows one to create sculptural forms from sugar, to create bows such as the one in Sugar Gazing. This photo, like many more on her website, depict a young woman (I think only one woman, sometimes wearing a wig), wearing a bow made of sugar, either on her neck or in her hair. The photos have the feel of fashion photos--the lighting is professional, the model has a blank, compliant expression and is heavily made up, staring directly at the viewer. Except for the bizarre sugar bows, one wouldn't be surprised to see these photos in an ad or clothes catalog. But the sugar bows are a completely bizarre element, reminding the viewer that she is looking at something deeply strange. The title tells us that this image is for gazing at (and we feel like we are being gazed at). There is an association between sweet and sexually desirable (one might call a lover "sweetie" or "sugar"). And fashion is like candy--something one might crave and never really have enough of. For these and other reasons, there is something about this photo that puts the viewer off-balance. It's funny and slightly creepy. It has an insinuating beauty that sticks with you.

If you took all the craft-based pieces out of The Big Show and made a separate show consisting of them solely, it would be a completely fascinating show. I wonder if Marco Antonini was thinking this as he chose these pieces. He knew he wasn't going to be able to create a unified exhibit--The Big Show is too diverse to permit that. But within the exhibit, perhaps, are several other excellent exhibits that can be put together--curated--in the viewer's mind.

The Artist's Eye: Mari Omori on Northwest Coast Art

by Dean Liscum

On Sunday, May 1, 2011 at 3 p.m. I attended a presentation by the artist Mari Omori at the Menil Collection as part of their Artist's Eye series. On the first Sunday of every month, the series invites a local (read Houston) artist to talk about any works of art in the Menil's permanent collection or in a temporary exhibition that it hosts. Omori chose to discuss Northwest Coast Art in conjunction with the opening of the exhibition Upside Down: Arctic Realities.

Mari Omori at the Menil Library

Omori is currently a Professor of Art at Lone Star College-Kingwood. Her art combines eastern and western styles, (She was born in Japan and settled in the U.S. as an adult.) and is very process oriented. During the lecture, Omori covered the integral part that art played in the indigenous people's lives, commonalities and differences among the indigenous cultures, and the native people's fight against the European's attempt to suppress native traditions and force adoption of Eurocentric practices.

After Omori concluded her lecture (which I hope the Menil will post), she informed the audience that we had an assignment. Then she invited Joan Son, an expert at Origami to lead us in making a northwest coast art-inspired bird mask.

Joan Son performing an origami lesson

About 75% of the audience succeeded. I failed. After numerous retries with the same piece of paper, mine looked like a John Chamberlain sculpture.

Joan Son with a finished origami bird mask

After the lecture, the audience was encouraged to view the exhibition Upside Down: Arctic Realities, which is based on the work by Dr. Edmund Carpenter. A docent at the entrance insisted that I put booties over my shoes, which seemed silly until I entered the gallery. Then I saw, understood, and appreciated the precaution. The all-white installation is minimal, stark, and icily beautiful. If they give awards for designing and installing art, the team responsible for Upside Down should win it.

How "green" is your g(art)den?

by Dean Liscum (all photos by Dean Liscum)

"Defining Green" is an outdoor installation at Russ Pittman Park at at 7112 Newcastle, Bellaire, TX 77401. It's curated by the Dirt Committee Artists for Defining Green, which consists of June Woest, Lisa Qualls and Lucinda Cobley. They have a blog, Muncipal Dirt, which provides additional information about this show as well as past shows (this is the 3rd annual) in Pittman Park.  The title, theme, and I assume working premise of the show is "defining green." As I viewed the show during a curator lead walk by June Woest and Eric Duran, I thought about what "green" means.

Woest's piece Interpreting Horticultural Therapy recycles on multiple levels. First it re-purposes natural materials (leaves and tree stump) that have completed their primary purpose. Second, as alluded to by the title, it re-purposes human energy so that the activity becomes not only what it, horticulture as work, but also something else, therapy. Today, it's a trend. In 1911, it would have made sharecroppers the senseis of mental health. (Oh, the difference context and a century makes!) Whatever the greenness, I like the juxtaposition of the leaves and the wood. Formally, they work for me. And if "green" is about recycling, this brown work is green.


June Woest and Urban Artists,  Interpreting Horticultural Therapy, 12 gage aluminum, leaves, 50 lb monofilament, 13' Height x 3' diameter

Michael Golden's now could be a gravestone for the "Green" movement and the earth itself or it could be a memorial meant to mark the moment in green. It could also be an inspirational touchstone concerning what is "green" now and what it will be in the future. The viewers perspective determines the definition of "green" and more importantly its tone.


Michael Golden, now, Dakota granite, 2011

Green Canopy by Cobley and Mari Omori tackles the challenge literally by translating "green" into 12 different languages and then cutting the words into a plastic sheath that they hung in a long chain-link corridor. The light through the leaves and translucent plastic speaks for itself. At dusk, it's an elegiac combination of human and natural materials and handiwork. If "green" represents harmony between man and nature, this piece is green.


Lucinda Cobley and Mari Omori, Green Canopy detail, 25’ x 6’, Hand-cut re-used polythene and clothes pegs


Lucinda Cobley and Mari Omori, Green Canopy detail, 25’ x 6’, Hand-cut re-used polythene and clothes pegs

The environment animates Defining Green Copper by Elena Lopez-Poirot.  It scintillates in the sunlight while the breeze blows the suspended pieces of copper. Of the works in the show, it's the one most likely to "green" as the copper oxidizes and is covered with a patina of verdigris. However, I doubt the chemical transformation will occur before the show closes. It falls in the green = harmony category.


Elena Lopez-Poirot , Defining Green, Copper

Nature had it's way with As it was in the beginning... According to Eric Duran, it started off as doll arms, legs, and heads emerging from or subsumed by the earth (finish the biblical quote and you get the "subsumed"). Based on the artist's description, I imagine the doll parts planted/emerging from the earth. However, I saw it 2 weeks after the opening and it looked more post-apocalyptic than antediluvian. Through heavy rain and strong winds, mother nature left her curatorial imprimatur. Out of either artistic integrity or indolence, the artist refused to rearrange it. From the title, I intuit that the work is about the circle of life. I experienced the work somewhere in the messy middle, no longer waxing and not completely waned. In this context, "green" seems to acknowledge that mother nature win. Do what you want but in the end she'll have her way with you.



Eric Duran, As it was in the beginning…. , Found objects

(Warning: Dolls were abused, some might say severely abused depending upon how you interpret dismemberment, in the making of this art work.)


Eric Duran, As it was in the beginning…. detail, Found objects

Amie Adelman left me ambivalent with her "Basketry". I wanted to both climb inside of it and run like hell from it. As for the question of how the piece "defined green", I have no idea. I was too busy wrestling with the Freudian implications of my response.


Amie Adelman, Basketry, Cotton line and round reed

(Inviting and yet...not so very)


Amie Adelman, Basketry, Cotton line and round reed

Hedge by Lisa Qualls and Lotus Bermudez is clever and possibly insidiously "green". Is its green coloring from microbes that will cover and consume the refuse that remains when we've turned each other into fertilizer? If so, hopefully a few artistically inclined humans will remain to neatly arrange the detritus. It's definitely in the "you're mother nature's bitch" category.


Lisa Qualls and Lotus Bermudez, Hedge, Ceramic and wire, 2011

Roll Me! apparently arrived at the park on opening day as a bunch of painted wooden slates, plastic ties, and a sign written by artist Patric Renner that said something like "Help me make art out of these natural materials." Renner collaborated with the audience and Roll Me! is what the viewers who were present for the opening made. Maybe "green" is what we make of it.


Patrick Renner and anonymous collaborators, Roll Me!, wooden slates and plastic ties, 2011

Urban Intrusion by Lesli Robertson and Rene Muhl is an ecological lecture (in sculptural form) about how man-made systems affect natural systems. The concrete boxes containing branches are laid out in the pattern of a branching root system. The compartmentalized pieces allude to the disruption that our infrastructure imposes on nature's infrastructure. The concrete and plexiglass boxes metaphorically represent the isolation and disruption the human systems cause to the natural ones. For this piece, I'm going with "green" = harmony, or everyone and everything ends up in concrete boxes.


Lesli Robertson and Rene Muhl, Urban Intrusion detail, 2011

(The branch, which looks to be covered in concrete, has the word "Decay" embossed on it.)


Lesli Robertson and Rene Muhl, Urban Intrusion detail, 2011

(Concrete boxes laid out like coffins or sewer drains or fire hydrants or ...)


Lesli Robertson and Rene Muhl, Urban Intrusion section, 2011
Like Roll Me!, Celebrating Nature was the result of artist (Susan Plum) and audience collaboration. I'm not sure who did what or what the symbolism of it was but here's the result, which I can only interpret as adulation. I do know that they wanted to adorn the tree with lighted candles and the park ranger said "No".


Susan Plum and anonymous collaborators, Celebrating Nature detail

So they embroidered candles on transparent cloth and attached them to the tree. "Green" you can party both with and for sounds like a sustainable approach.


Susan Plum and anonymous collaborators, Celebrating Nature detail

Joseph Cohen and daniel-kayne chose to define "green" by marking time. They used the remnants of a fallen tree to both commemorate the tree but also create a piece that marks the passing minutes (via sundial) and years through the deterioration and weathering of the white "table top". The table top is actually a canvas painted white with an off-white circle impasto-ed in the center. The arrangement of the trunk seats and shape of and placement of the sundial heighten the contemplative nature of the piece. Is it tombstone (both the sundial in the center and the piece as a whole) or a touch stone? The weathered white paint conjures up the use of white as a funeral color in many cultures.   


Joseph Cohen and daniel-kayne, Untitled, 2010 – 2011, fallen oak, house-paint, cinder blocks, 5’x5’


Joseph Cohen and daniel-kayne, Untitled detail, 2010 – 2011, fallen oak, house-paint, cinder blocks, 5’x5’

I regret not being able to photograph Jennifer Overfield's Temperance because of the lack of light. It consists of a penciled outline of a daurian peony (I cheated and asked) with splashes of color on very thin vinyl sheet 54" x 43". At dusk in the slight breeze, it subtly shimmers. May be it was the moment, twilight, but for me this piece also fit into the momento mori category of green, grandiose but gone or going.

If after viewing this exhibit, someone were to ask me to define green, I'm not sure I could articulate a single definition or a clear call to action. But I do hope that the raising of my consciousness isn't just an ephemeral "green" fix that will dissipate like the humidity in my car as I cranked up the A/C for the long drive home.

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