It's been a long time since I wrote about The Big Show, Lawndale Art Center's annual open-call juried exhibit. Writing about it used to be a annual tradition, but I've fallen off the past few years (and the exhibit was cancelled last year for COVID reasons). I went through the show without the list of artists--I wanted to respond to the pieces without responding to the names of who produced them. I want to admit something that should be obvious, but I am unable to be objective when I know who the artists are. Especially if they are my friends. Only one of the pieces I liked I could instantly recognize as being by a friend of mine, which undoubtedly affected how I viewed it. I didn't look at the names of the artists until after I looked at the pieces.
The juror was Cecilia Fajardo-Hill. She went further than most jurors have in the past by trying to break up what inevitably is a cacophony of voices into a kind of taxonomy of genres and approaches. The categories were abstractions, deferments, embodiments, identities, landscapes, materialities, nature, and resistance. I admit I wasn't paying close attention to these categories as I walked through--perhaps when I go see it again, I will. Some are obvious enough, but I'm not sure about what Fajardo-Hill means by deferments, embodiments, or materialities.
One thing I noticed was the presence of several large drawings, including one by Joachim West.
This is one of those pieces where close-ups on some of the details are called for.
West doesn't give the viewer anything to focus on--every square inch seems no more or less important than any other square inch. He's like a figurative Jackson Pollack.
The same can't be said about Vincent Fink, whose amazingly detailed has a clear focal point.
This M.C. Escher-like drawing would go great with a bong hit in the dorm room if I was 40 years younger. But as an old guy who hasn't been in a dorm in a long, long time, I was impressed by the level of detail and the complex, curvilinear perspective.
This piece by Colleen Maynard pretty much requires close examination.
I am reminded of how scientists before the invention of photography had to be pretty good artists. They had to draw what they were observing in nature. In a way, the camera helped pull art and science apart.
Unlike Fajardo-Hill, I'm not going to try to classify what I'm looking at (except to point out these three incredible drawings above). Here's the rest of what I liked on my first pass. (I suspect that will change when I go see the exhibit again.)
This sculpture group by Angela Corson is exactly what it looks like--panties. I suspect the artist dipped them in porcelain slip and then fired them. I assume that the process of firing them burned away all the silk and cotton, leaving only porcelain in the end, but I don't know enough about firing porcelain to speak with confidence. The handprint on the panties on the left is super-creepy.
Do all the artists use their legal names when they sign their work? I initially suspected that Bismark Alejandro Rex was a nom du pinceau. But he exists in the internet under that name, so what do I know? Whether this is his real name or not, I enjoyed his jaunty Mexican-flavored abstraction.
At every Big Show, there are always artworks constructed out of material that one could buy at Home Depot or Lowes. Those places are like the art supply store for a certain group of artists, like Chet Urban. I think this grid of brads and tarp will make some think about the landscape of Houston post-storm. Houses with holes in them covered in blue tarps--it's the world we live it.
Cressandra Thibodeaux, Pills and Courage, 2021, digital C print on paper
Cressandra Thibodeux runs 14 Pews and is probably best known as a documentary filmmaker. I believe the subject of these two photos is her mom, and if so, she is a good sport. The pill-bottle curlers is a witty reuse of this cylindrical shape so familiar to everyone who has ever gotten prescription drugs. I've often wondered why pill bottles are always transparent orange.
Deasa When I first saw this, I thought it might be by John Runnels, as he has frequently done pieces made out of cigarette butts.
Deasa Turner, Smoke & Mirrors, 2019,cigarette and cigar butts, found objects, vintage animophic ashtrays, and vintage mirrors on wood panels (detail)
Deasa Turner, Smoke & Mirrors, 2019,cigarette and cigar butts, found objects, vintage animophic ashtrays, and vintage mirrors on wood panels (detail)
But the artist is Deasa Turner, one of many artists in the Big Show whom I have never heard of. That's what I like about the Big Show every year--there are always a lot of artists with whom I am unfamiliar--it reminds me that there are artworlds here in the Houston area that I have never seen.
The red tips on the cigarettes make me think of lipstick stains, and the vintage ashtrays have a feeling of noir--like a femme fatale meeting a private dick at the Formosa Cafe in Hollywood.
One thing that is constant in the Big Show is that some artists take the opportunity to honor their heroes. I'll never forget teenager Avril Fagout's life-size sculpture of the Black Veil Brides from the 2013 Big Show. (I wonder what she's up to now...) Romeo C. Robinson, not being 15 years old like Fagout was, picks a somewhat more grownup hero to honor--James Baldwin.
I don't know who Eddie Filer, Jr., is depicting in this triple-portrait, but I'm going to guess it may be Eddie Filer senior. It does seem to be an homage to a man who, for Filer, is the voice of reason--someone who calmly discusses with you whatever is troubling you.
What attracted me at first to Hallie Gluk's photo was the intense color and baroque composition. The title, Atemsia, suggest the baroque associations may be intentional, if Gluk is refering to Artemisia Gentileschi, the Italian baroque painter who has finally been rediscovered by the hitherto extremely sexist art historical establishment.
These two pieces are by someone named Josh Alan. Seeing them, I wonder if they are by the Josh Alan who was a guitarist living in Dallas, whom I once saw years ago at the Mucky Duck here in town. I suppose he could moved closer to Houston in the intervening years. Although his brother, Drew Friedman, is a well-known illustrator, I've never known Alan to do visual art. But as I looked for his website, I see that this Josh Alan is not the guitarist. Their identical names are just a coincidence.
These long flat landscapes by Karen Hilyer, with vanishing points created by furrows in the fields, attracted me as I walked past. I almost missed them because they are so small (perhaps that is a result of them being pinhole photos). Just to give you an idea of the scale, I tool a photo of them next to other pieces.
Kira Jane Porter's painting is another highly antic abstraction (a lot of abstractions in this Big Show). I like how the mark-making seems like a pastiche of comic book styles without quoting any images that I can tell.
I wonder with Orna Feinstein's piece if the shape already existed and she added the colored threads after. It looks as if the rounded part is the top of a screw that is colorfully being screwed into the rectangular portion.
I liked Roslyn M. Dupre's piece mostly because of the shovel handles used as the base. A handsome piece.
This piece by S.G. Starr seemed quite slick (which might in part be due to the shiny coat of resin on it), but its poster-like presence caught my eye. I liked how the half-tone in the central ribbon image was so visible compared to the rest of the image.
I like seeing a rough-hewn assemblage in the Big Show. The tradition of Wallace Berman and George Herms lives on! Looking at Tra' Slaughter's webpage, it seems that he has done a few assemblages like this over the past year, although more of his work is two dimensional work.
This just scratches the surface of what's at the Big Show. I am so glad to see that it has returned.
