Betsy Huete’s Top Ten of 2014

Betsy Huete

Sure, there are a lot of top ten lists out there, and in the last week or so they’ve come in droves. I’ve seen the top exhibitions of the year several times over from all different kinds of people, websites, blogs; the top ten art lists from Hyperallergic; Artnet’s fifty most interesting artists and most important essays; and so on. Hell, Robert even posted two top ten lists in the past week or so—one on comics and one on art books. So, surprise, surprise! I’m throwing my hat into the ring with my top ten pieces exhibited in Houston in 2014. Like last year, I’m being really specific, picking individual works instead of exhibitions. There have been many times, just like last year, where the exhibition as a whole either didn’t stand out to me or I didn’t have anything specific to say about it, yet a piece or two individually did something really special. Here they are:



10. Karyn Olivier, Still Life Series (Matinicus), 2014, How the Light Gets In: Recent Work by Seven Core Fellows at the Glassell School. These series of photographs are images of things that, in themselves, aren’t very interesting. Blemished painted foam, colored mirrors, and colored papers are a few objects that Olivier has arranged and photographed in various ways. But the precision of the photographs, like this one in particular, as well as the arrangement makes it look delectable, like cake.


Courtesy Devin Borden Gallery

9. Clark Derbes, Charlie, 2014, American Sculpture at Devin Borden. As a whole, this exhibition at Devin Borden seemed pretty tame and unassuming, which made Charlie stand out all the more. Derbes normally paints onto found wood, which is what he has done here. The truncated piece of wood twists, and the application of the colorful checkers make the whole piece feel elastic and dynamic. I have no idea who Charlie is or his relationship to Derbes, but if he’s anything like his sculpture, I want to meet this guy.


Courtesy Art Palace

8. Deborah Roberts, Buttress, One and Many at Art Palace. A collaged creature-woman floating in a large field of putrid gold abstraction, Roberts’ Buttress is brazenly disharmonious. The slightly slumped shoulders of the woman command our empathy with her vulnerability while still looking vile and distorted.


 (Photo by Adam Clay)

7. Carter Ernst, HOOT, Texas Sculpture Group 2014: A Panoramic View, Lawndale Art Center. Tucked in a corner on the second floor of Lawndale during the Texas Sculpture Group Exhibition, stood this larger than human height, fabric-covered owl. It felt huggable, until I stared into its bulbous, mirrored eyes. Ernst’s owl feels cute and ominous, and it reminds me a little of those giant puppets that used to play at Show Biz Pizza.


From stillinberlin.de

6. Hito Steyerl, How Not To Be Seen: A Fucking Didactic Educational .MOV File, 2013, Collective Reaction: FotoFest 2014, The Station Museum. With How Not To Be Seen…, Steyerl conveys exciting ideas about the intangible image as a physical material, and thereby questions what happens with our material bodies as we continue to communicate increasingly via images and pixels. She enumerates—within this framework—on how to disappear in not only a compelling but humorous way, suggesting that one could disappear by being a woman over the age of fifty.


Courtesy Inman Gallery

5. Angela Fraleigh, we held hands beneath the dirt, 2014, Ghosts in the Sunlight, Inman Gallery. Whatever is going on with this woman’s expression, which is deliberately unclear, we as viewers can’t help but wonder what’s happening to her, what she’s doing. With cropping, Fraleigh smartly gives us only partial access to this woman, effectively turning this painting from fully representational to an abstraction.


From glasstire.com

4. Julia Brown, The Dancer, 2014, The Core Exhibition 2014, The Glassell School. Brown doesn’t do much in this video: she simply points and shoots at a pre-pubescent girl dancing to a hip hop song. We see the girl practicing, running through some of the dance moves with ease and faltering through others. The girl eyes us in the camera, flitting from childlike innocence to the sexuality of a grown woman. Here, Brown simply and cleanly nails what it feels like to be an adolescent girl. I remember watching this the first time, actively cringing while also nostalgically reflecting on the slumber parties I would have with my best friends, staying up all night practicing N*SYNC choreography. Ok, that was last week.


From ggalleryhouston.com

3. Dylan Roberts, Bully, Beyond Graphite: Fab 15 + Performance, G Gallery. Bully is a putrid mixed media painting of skin-like pinks and reds with a seemingly wheat-pasted neon yellow drawing on top of it. The drawing is intricate and strange. The material underneath looks like melting plastic, like pimply, bubbling skin. Every time I look at this piece I want to vomit, which is why it is my number three pick.


From houstonmuseumdistrict.org

2. Wu Tsang, Moved by the Motion, 2014, Moved by the Motion, DiverseWorks. With Moved by the Motion, Tsang has constructed a dual projection short film with a loose narrative around the gender-ambiguous performer boychild. The film is unabashedly, almost absurdly, queer. Boychild—sensual, confusing, disgusting, beautiful, sexual—commands our attention, and it was impossible to stop watching her. Also, the beanbag chairs were exceptionally comfortable.


From glasstire.com

1. Paul Kittelson, Lawn Chairs, 2014, True North, Heights Boulevard esplanade. Let’s not lie. Public art can be boring. That’s usually because it has to filter through several committees first (see HAA fiasco), becoming a soulless skeleton of the artist’s original intent. But Kittelson’s lawn chairs sweetly garnered everyone’s attention and sense of nostalgia, making passersby squeal with glee as they climbed (illegally) onto the giant chairs, flailing their legs around as if they were little kids.

Mass Transit Public Art

by Robert Boyd


Tom Otterness, Life Underground, 2001, bronze

When I was in New York, I saw a pretty delightful (and slightly subversive) piece of public art in the subway stations where the A,C and E lines intersect with the L line. This is Life Underground by Tom Otterness. Instead of being one big piece, it consists of a bunch of little pieces spread throughout the two stations. The subversive aspect is that it features these little top-hatted figures with money-bags for faces who are alternately oppressing other figures (workers and beggars) or being eaten by alligators. The workers are shown building things but also sawing at the I-beams that support the ceilings.


Tom Otterness, Life Underground, 2001, bronze


Tom Otterness, Life Underground, 2001, bronze


Tom Otterness, Life Underground, 2001, bronze


Tom Otterness, Life Underground, 2001, bronze


Tom Otterness, Life Underground, 2001, bronze


Tom Otterness, Life Underground, 2001, bronze


Tom Otterness, Life Underground, 2001, bronze


Tom Otterness, Life Underground, 2001, bronze


Tom Otterness, Life Underground, 2001, bronze

I passed through these stations twice. It's a very busy interchange. But what I noticed was that despite the fact that these little bronze statues are everywhere, people weren't looking at them. Only I, the obvious tourist with a camera, seemed to notice them. And why should everyday commuters notice them--they've seen them hundreds of times. The first few times they might register, but after a while they become part of the background noise.

I think this a problem with transit-oriented art. It's guaranteed to eventually become invisible to the very people it was created for. For example, how many people driving on I-45 through downtown Houston notice the Buffalo Bayou Torches by Paul Kittleson?  I don't know if there is a solution--it may be that this art always exists to be seen the first time you pass it, but not so much every subsequent time.





 

Apples and Oranges

by Robert Boyd

Paul Kittleson's new exhibit at Nau-haus, "mirror - mirror,"  has him playing with glass and mirrors--pressing things between planes of glass to create bizarre optical effects, for example. He uses flat patterns on paper (often contact paper) to create three-dimensional objects. This work often has a tension between flat and three-dimensional.

Then there's this:



Paul Kittelson, Apples and Oranges, layers of glass and contact paper, 2011

I can't tell you exactly what we're looking at, but to me it looks like a glass box filled with oranges. Here's another view:



Paul Kittelson, Apples and Oranges, layers of glass and contact paper, 2011

Hmmm. Same crate, but now it looks like its full of apples.

Let's walk around it and see what happens.


Paul Kittelson, Apples and Oranges, layers of glass and contact paper, 2011

OK, this veers dangerously close to stunt art, but I like it--it's simultaneously trippy and mundane. The rest of the show is likewise a little trippy and quite lovely. Kittelson's homage to Brancusi is a highlight. I highly recommend "mirror - mirror".

Pan y Circos

by Robert Boyd

No more teasing--here's the story. I am co-curating a group exhibit later on this month called Pan y Circos. The show will open Friday evening on October 21, with a reception from 6 pm to 9 pm. It runs through November 5. The location is the PG Contemporary Temporary Annex, 3225 Milam Street. You can respond to my official Facebook invite here. Or you can just show up. It's all good.


Brian Piana, design for Overlord, 2011

A couple of weeks ago, Zoya Tommy, owner of PG Contemporary, called me up and asked if I wanted to curate a show for her. My immediate thought was that she was thinking of a show in her gallery (which is very compact) and was thinking some time off in the future, like, I dunno, January or February.

But no--she wanted to do the show in late October, in a 2500 square foot space a few doors down from her gallery. It had been the site of a yoga studio, but now it was available. Tommy had asked her landlord if she could have it for a one-off exhibit. So the time frame was short. I told Tommy I wasn't sure if I could get an exhibit together so quickly and suggested we collaborate. I said she should make a list of artists she would like, and I'll do the same.


John Sturtevant, untitled, paint on canvas, 2011

I chose artists who either weren't represented by local galleries or whose work I hadn't seen in a local solo show recently. Tommy had her own criteria. Once we each had a list, we met and started winnowing it down, first by vetoing artists on each other's list, then by removing artists whose work didn't quite fit in. Some themes appeared--artists whose work toyed with our ideas of realism (or redefined them), artists who dealt with notions of "the border" and collision of Hispanic and Anglo cultures. But these thematic links were serrendipitous--we didn't try to design the show around them. They emerged as the we thought about which artists to include.


Santiago Forero, Sorority Bid Day, C-Print, 2008

Some artists we really wanted just couldn't participate, but in the end we have 10 outstanding artists. The work is sculptural, photographic, and painted. All the artists live in Houston except Santiago Forero, who lives on Colombia but recently lived in Austin. They collectively represent several generations of Houston art--some are established, some are emerging.

The artists in the show are Brett Hollis, Brian Piana, Britt Ragsdale, Delilah Montoya, Dennis Harper, John Sturtevant, Jorge Galvan, Paul Kittelson, Santiago Forero and Sharon Engelstein.

I hope Pan readers will come out to see it. I consider curating exhibits to be a part of the whole Great God Pan Is Dead project. This blog has largely been a discussion of art in Houston, and Pan y Circos continues that discussion in another format.

Pan y Circos

More information coming soon! Keep checking this blog and P.G. Contemporary Gallery.

The Last Guy to Show Up at the Itchy Acres Party

by Robert Boyd

I've written about the Independence Heights art neighborhood twice now, here and here. Finding this place was purest serendipity, which is the loveliest thing that can happen to an art lover. Only my arrogance would let me think I was the first (beyond the artists themselves) to stumble across this neighborhood. Of course, I was not the first--not even close.

In 2001, a 3-acre lot next to Kittelson and Ernst's property became available. A loose partnership - Kittelson and Ernst, sculptor Ed Wilson and his wife, Magda Boltz-Topp; artist Charlie Sartwelle, and contractor/fine woodworker Brian Owens - leaped at the opportunity to buy it.

"We were on Ashland in the Heights, but with two growing kids, the two-bedroom house was getting small," Owens said. When the land came up for sale, "I hooked up with Carter, Ed and Charlie, and we bought it together."

Owens designed and built his beautifully crafted family home after constructing a temporary metal house that now serves as a guest house. Wilson refurbished a bungalow after paying to move it from across the street to his land. He then built an open, 1,600-square-foot metal studio on two levels with room for his wife's photography and print-making.

The only fence on the now-larger Itchy Acres compound is the gated one along the city street.
Neighbors seem receptive. Mohamed Bataineh owns a strip center on Yale one block south of Martin that includes Harvest Food Store and Fixit Body Shop. "People are moving in and putting money in the neighborhood, and that is good," he said.

Sculptor Tim Glover and his wife, Mary, bought an acre that backs up to the compound. They are selling the bungalow they own in the Heights that has doubled in market value since they bought it in 1989, according to the Harris County Appraisal District.

By comparison, land in northwest Houston is cheap. Most house values around Itchy Acres range from $20,000 to $90,000 and land is about $1 a square foot.

Artists Virgil Grotfeldt and Terrell James recently bought land in the northwest neighborhood, too, with plans to build studios.[The Houston Chronicle, Houston artists have been scattering from the traditional enclaves / AN ARTISTIC MOVEMENT, 11/12/2006]

 If the Chronicle was on top of this in 2006, it must have been well-known within the artistic community well before then. That gives you an idea of how late I am to this party.

Not only did the Chron report on them, they recently had a group exhibit at Gallery Nord in San Antonio.The thing is, some of these artists have been living there since 1995. There has been a very slow influx since then, with the most recent artistic addition to the neighborhood being Independence Art Studios, which started two years ago. In a way, it seems like a critical addition to the neighborhood. While it was just artists and their studios, it could be somewhat secret. But once an institution moves in (like a gallery or an public art space or studios for rent or an art school), you start getting visitors from the greater Houston area. Word gets out (for instance, via feckless bloggers) and the cycle of gentrification can begin.



Zillow.com map of Independence Heights/Garden Oaks

According to Zillow and HAR.com, there is little for sale near Itchy Acres (except for this promising warehouse on Martin). The prices just to the west of Shepherd are relatively high--that neighborhood is Garden Oaks, and it is a lot more suburban than Independence Heights. To the east of Yale--the heart of Independence Heights--the prices for houses are dirt cheap, but the houses are small and dilapidated on small lots.

Anyway, that's all I'm going to write about Itchy Acres for the moment. It may be that despite the artists who have moved in, no gentrification will take place in Independence Heights or Acres Homes. Who knows? Nonetheless, artist-lead gentrification is part of the artistic economy, and therefore extremely interesting to me.

Mysterious North Houston Art Colony Discovered

by Robert Boyd



Independence Art Studios had an open house last weekend, so I decided to go check them out. They are on Janisch Rd. between Shepherd and Yale north of the Loop. The neighborhood they are in is Independence Heights. Independence Heights was a small town founded by black families in 1916 that got annexed by Houston in 1929. What is considered the neighborhood of Independence Heights is a little bigger than the original municipality. It's a part of town I've never really visited before, and I was well amazed when I did. When I discover art happening in Houston--particularly art that's been completely off my radar--I get excited. I knew Independence Art Studios existed, but I was very impressed to finally see it.



These are the studios. (You can't see it well here, but to the right is a big house. The lots on the streets in this neighborhood are enormous.) The studios are owned and run by the Cullar-Ledfords--Thedra Cullar-Ledford and her husband Stephen Cullar-Ledford. I didn't meet them when I stopped by, but I have a strong feeling for Stephen--he went to the Jones School for an MBA (as did I) and works for a natural gas E&P, as do I, and does an big art thing on the side! (Independence Art Studios for him, Pan for me.)

The studios are made out of old containers, and are quite roomy inside--long and thin, with a tiny loft space for storage. One artist, Jon Clark, lives in his space.



Jon Clark and Chasity Sophus Porter, who also has a studio there, posed for me. Clark had amazing piece of sculpture on the front lawn--another wooden nautilus shape.


Jonathan Clark, untitled, cedar and deckmate screws, 2011

Ok, I was pretty impressed by what the Cullar-Ledfords had done. They have a thriving art colony going! Check out their website. But as I mentioned, it was a neighborhood I had never really seen. So out of curiosity, I thought I'd drive around and see what else was there. So I went one block south to Martin St. and my mind was blown.


414 Martin Rd.

This nondescript house had a brilliant blue sculpture by Lee Littlefield in front of it. (I'm sorry I don't have a photo, but the photos I took were out of focus.) And their front yard was chock full of abstract sculptures.



The yellow sculpture looked like another Lee Littlefield, and it seemed like there was a third in the back yard.









This is an amazing collection of sculpture, and there's even more than what I've photographed! Except for the pieces that are obviously by Lee Littlefield, I have no idea who created these works. Can any Pan readers identify them?

But wait--that's not all. There were just as many sculptures in the yards of three houses across the street. I didn't get as many photos because the sculptures were further back in the property, and I didn't want to skulk around in case they were shoot-first-ask-questions-later types. But here are a couple of photos.





These sculptures appeared to be at the addresses 331, 331 1/2, 405 and 414 Martin St. I was curious as to who owned them, but I didn't think to knock on the doors and ask. So I thought I'd do the next best thing--look them up on HCAD, Harris County's internet accessible property database.

And what do you know--Lee and Eliza Littlefield live at 414 Martin Street. Those sculptures look like Lee Littlefield sculptures for a good reason! Someone named Brian Owens owns the property at 331 Martin, which has two really nice looking houses on it as well as lots of sculpture. His name doesn't mean anything to me, but he may be renting houses to artists there. 405 Martin is owned by Magdalene Boltz-Topp, who is also an artist. But that's not all--according to HCAD, sculptors Paul Kittleson and Carter Ernst co-own the property right next door to the Littlefields.

So with Independence Art Studios on Janisch Rd., and a whole bunch of sculptors on Martin St., I think we can say that this is a little hidden art neighborhood. And if it follows the pattern of other art neighborhoods like Montrose and Rice Military, in 25 years or so, it will be full of expensive townhomes. So my advice is to buy now--or at least take a drive over past the Littlefield's home--it's worth checking out.

New Review on 29-95 of Material & deStructure at Poissant Gallery

Robert Boyd

I have a new review up at 29-95. Please check it out. It's a review of the group show at Poissant Gallery (which you can see until May 8).

As usual, I have some extra photos from the show. Like this one:



Jeff Forster, Frailty, found object, porcelain, native Houston clay, 2010

Jeff Forster is a ceramicist whose work deals with the natural reality of clay—some of his work involves taking natural clay and firing it and returning it to the environment, “essentially speeding up geologic time.” But for Frailty, made of a wooden box, porcelain and native Houston clay, it’s not geologic time that’s represented but urban time. The best word to describe it would be debris. It looks like the remnant of a long abandoned building, perhaps damaged by a natural disaster, slowly sinking back into a state of nature.



Paul Kittelson, Tombs, contact paper, glass, wood, 2010

This is one you really need to see in person to experience. The effect of the refraction of the light through the glass is really neat. The name "tombs" is perfect for these little pyramids. I imagine a science fiction novel, set in some far distant future where civilization, after reaching almost incomprehensible technological heights, has collapsed. You are with a group of wanderers and you come across these crystal pyramids--mysterious, uneroding, ancient but ageless. (And then Yes starts playing "Starship Troopers" and you wake up to find the joint you were holding has burned a hole through your new velour shirt.)



Marzia Faggin, Abstraction Re-Abstracted, acrylic on canvas, 2010

I wrote about this one in the review, but they didn't run a photo. So if you read the review, here is one of the two Faggin paintings I wrote about.