Saturday, November 9, 2013

Whiplash In the Dark

Robert Boyd

At this year's Cinema Arts Festival, they showed two movies by Meredith Danluck. Art Hard (which I'm sorry to say you missed--it played yesterday) is a feature documentary. North of South, East of West combines two genres--narrative feature film and experimental film. North of South, East of West is playing three more times on Saturday, November 9, and Sunday November 10--so you can just catch it.


Jim Deneven on Lake Baikal

Art Hard (2010) follows an artist, Jim Denevan, who is seeking to make the world's largest artwork on the frozen surface of Lake Baikal in Siberia. Denevan is an earth artist who draws geometric patterns on ice or sand. They are, obviously, highly impermanent. He was commissioned by the clothing store Anthropologie to do this piece. (This was a part of the store's "Anthropologist" program of commissioning works from creative people. It appears to be defunct, as far as I can determine.)


The finished artwork (detail)

The whole idea of creating the world's largest artwork seems megalomaniacal (and ridiculous), although that's mitigated by the piece's impermanence. Deneven's crew seems mostly concerned with drinking and having fun--they don't quite get the work. Deneven explains that his mother was a math teacher, and that this work relates to that (it's very geometric). In the end, the appeal of the work (when seen from the air) is that the circles focus your attention on the naturally formed skein of white cracks in the deep blue ice.

The documentary has a casual, matter-of-fact style. It doesn't try to inform as much as immerse the viewer in the experience.

Watching Art Hard would in no way prepare you for North of South, East of West. It's a fiction film that follows several characters, Yvonne (played by Sue Galloway, a regular on 30 Rock), Dale (James Penfold), an auto worker whose name I didn't get (Ben Foster, currently in the theaters playing William S. Burroughs in Kill Your Darlings) and Miguel (Erik Quintana). Their stories are more-or-less unrelated, but the characters cross paths. So far, not unlike a typical narrative film. But what Danluck does that's quite odd is that she shows their stories on four screens, formed in a square, with the audience sitting in the middle. A viewer simply cannot watch all four screens at once. You sit in a swivel chair and are constantly spinning around.


installation view of North of South, West of East

She could have done this film on one screen, switching from character to character as their stories progress and occasionally intersect. Instead, what happens in the four screen version is that when the viewer is supposed to be paying attention to one screen, the other screens show something banal and boring--someone in a shower, a horizon, the night sky, a character watching TV, etc. For the most part, it's obvious what screen you are meant to be watching at any one time. But not always--sometimes Danluck forces you to choose. And sometimes, you may be watching a bit of dialogue one one screen when something trivial but engaging happens on the second screen. (For instance, when the very stoned Miguel makes a taco out of a tortilla and Oreos).


Yvonne and Miguel at the diner

The plots are fairly simple: the auto worker is a drug-addicted gambler who owes a bad guy $10,000 and decides to get out of town, thinking about going to Las Vegas after a conversation with Yvonne. Yvonne is a frustrated actress and unsuccessful cosmetics saleswoman who is given the job of driving a pink company Cadillac (which she picked up from the auto worker at the plant in Detroit) to Las Vegas, where it will be given to some sales champion at the company's annual convention. Dale is a rancher with a dislike of cops who gets thrown in jail overnight for messing with one, then has another encounter with one at the end of the movie. Miguel is a young heavy metal musician working for minimum wage at a cafe with occasional odd jobs for Dale who decides to make a big score by delivering drugs for the local drug kingpin. Dale and Miguel live near Marfa, and Yvonne drives through on her way to Las Vegas from Detroit (yes, I realize this makes no sense geographically).


The auto-worker nods off

These plots seem fairly conventional (at least for indie cinema), and except for the long stretches of nothing happening when the viewer is looking at another screen, they are filmed in more-or-less classical cinema style. However, if you chose to look at just one screen, it would very much seem like an experimental film--some bursts of action followed by extremely long slow periods of inactivity. Hence the whiplash--you are constantly whipping back and forth to look at the screen with the "action." At one point, all four screen go into the "experimental" mode at once--they each show extended sequences of TV screens, representing what the characters are watching.


Yvonne on the road near Marfa

This combination of experimental and traditional narrative film is quite bracing. I was gripped by this film all the way to its rather abrupt ending. North of South, West of East is never coming to a theater near you--it only works with four screens in an "in the round" setting. You have three more chances to see it this weekend. I highly recommend you do.

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A Talk with Danielle Frankenthal

Virginia Billeaud Anderson

Recently a New York gallery published a video of Danielle Frankenthal discussing her art in her New Jersey studio, and when I watched it I realized I had been ignorant of a particular element of her process. The artist applies paint to both sides, not just one, of the acrylic resin panels that make up her paintings. As she explained in the video, to paint both sides of three transparent panels gives her six painted surfaces through which light can penetrate. Wall-mounted with space between them, the plastic panels and their acrylic paint reflect light quite dramatically. Misunderstanding the significance of light reflection, I once wrote amateurishly that paint in Frankenthal’s art, “seems to float.”


Danielle Frankenthal, Turbulence 6, 2013 Acrylic paint on acrylite, 31 x 31 inches

I talked to Frankenthal during the opening reception of Turbulence, her solo exhibition at Wade Wilson Art (through December 20) and sensed her composure masked a slightly breathless state, not unsurprising given the fact that she was also exhibiting in Contemporary Arts Museum’s group exhibition Outside the Lines: UIA (Unlikely Iterations of the Abstract), which had opened the evening before. Outside the Lines marks the 65th anniversary of the CAMH’s October 31, 1948 inaugural exhibition. I missed CAMH’s opening, but figured the evening would be somewhat ceremonial when I read this officious line in the invitation: “Reading of Mayoral Proclamation: 6:30pm.”

If Frankenthal felt overwhelmed by gallery and museum installation, stacked openings, after-parties and dinners, a gallery talk with Bill Arning as a panelist, and collectors to tend to, that would be natural. So it was unnecessary for her to apologize for not calling after having written, “Virginia, I’ll be in Houston from 10/22 – 11/9, installing at the CAMH,,.would love to have a drink and get caught up, Danielle.”

My dear, you are forgiven!

Having collectors present at her opening did not stop her from answering a few questions:

Virginia Billeaud Anderson: Do the ten paintings in Turbulence reflect any change from your previous handling of plastic?

Danielle Frankenthal: There’s a slight difference. Some pieces, Turbulence 6 for example, I covered the furthest panel entirely with paint. The panels are painted with “metal gilding,” so the furthest one appears solid, and naturally interacts differently with light and with the two closer panels.

VBA: Another slight difference is your use of cool tones. Turbulence’s ultramarines and ceruleans remind me of the lovely dark olive green you used in the Camelot series.

DF: Yes

VBA: Your titles occasionally give clues to artistic inspiration. The series Chaos Contained (2011) evolved from an improved emotional state that came ten years after the trauma of watching the Twin Towers destroyed. You called the warm colors in Chaos Contained “embers,” and said they were “a positive thing that provides light and energy,” contrasted to the charcoal-like tones in the previous 9/11 series, one of which I saw. It was horrific.

DF: You know some collectors didn’t get that.

VBA: 9/11’s dark-toned sinuous forms looked precisely like charred body parts.

DF: Years after the horror, the fire had become an ember.

VBA: Did you know one of your Embers paintings charmed a critic when you showed it in Wade’s 2011 group show Blurring Lines? Houston Press’s Altamese Osborne called it “the darling of the night,” and wrote it “drew the most eyes.” Danielle I’m wondering if a significant event inspired the art in Turbulence.

DF: You know, we were stuck in Sandy. Hoboken where we live is in a flood plane and we were trapped there in 10 feet of water, David and I, and the water was gray and swishy with stuff in it. I think the art grew out of hurricane Sandy.

VBA: I remember your mayor issued a request for citizens to bring their boats to City Hall to help evacuate people from the condos and brownstones.

DF: Hoboken is a tight-knit community, and the town rallied, we could go to the church to plug in our phones. We ended up staying with friends on Long Island. David and I live on the third floor, and the elevator did not operate for 5 months. I remember I wanted my husband to have a Xmas tree, a real one, well I had lost my car in the flood, and using a borrowed car I went out and bought a tree, but couldn’t get it up-stairs. Our existence is endlessly turbulent, the reality we live in, these times are turbulent, but never without hope. I remember feeling so cold, everything was damp and cold, and then, months later the water receded, and the sun came out and it was warm again, never without hope.


 Danielle Frankenthal's installation in UIA (Unlikely Iterations of the Abstract) at the CAMH on opening night


from Danielle Frankenthal's installation in UIA (Unlikely Iterations of the Abstract) at the CAMH

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Thursday, November 7, 2013

Pan Recommends for the week of November 7 to November 13

Robert Boyd

Damn, this week's going to be tough! There's the usual round of openings, but layered on top is that Cinema Arts Festival, which officially opened Wednesday. I've highlighted quite a few of their films below, but you can see their entire schedule at their website, as well as trailers for most of the films. It's a pretty unique festival in that it shows a lot of films about art--visual, theatrical, musical, literary, cinematic, whatever. In addition to all these features that you have to buy tickets for, I strongly recommend you stop by their headquarters 1201 Main (at Dallas) because they have a variety of screens set up for showing experimental animated films that are completely free (there are several other programs that are free in the Festival as well). Some of these are classic animation experiments (by Norman McLaren, for example), while some are quite fascinating interactive animations using iPods as the tool for audience participation. The festival headquarters is also where they have "Cinema 16," which is a busy venue for somewhat more experimental films all during the festival.

THURSDAY



Cutie and the Boxer at Sundance Cinemas, 12:45 pm. The story of octogenarian pugilist painter Ushio Shinohara and his wife Noriko. Shinohara also has an exhibition of paintings opening on Friday at Zoya Tommy Contemporary.



Big Joy: The Adventures of James Broughton at Sundance Cinemas, 12:50 pm. Experimental filmmaker and poet James Broughton was a prophet of sexual experimentation in the days before the counter-culture blossomed.



North of South, West of East by Meredith Danluck at  Cinema 16, 1 pm, 7 pm and 9:30 pm. Meredith Danluck's feature film is shown simultaneously on four screen in the round. Audiences sit in chairs that can rotate and must always decide which screen to watch. (This obviously limits the audience size, which may be why it is running so frequently over the course of the festival. I recommend buying tickets in advance.)



Harry Dean Stanton: Partly Fiction by Sophie Huber at Sundance Cinemas, 3:40 pm. The great character actor (Repo Man, Paris, Texas, Alien, and 200+ more) profiled.



Portraits of Women Artists: Lover Other / Maya Deren’s Sink by Barbara Hammer at Cinema 16, 4 pm. Two films that sound fascinating: Portrait of Women Artists is a true story about a pair of lesbian surrealists who became Resistance fighters in World War II, and Maya Deren's Sink is about the great experimental filmmaker and her sink.


Putting the U in Color by Prince V Thomas, CC Stinson Kavi T, and Jyoti Guptaat the Doshi House, 5 to 7 pm. An exhibit dealing with an issue I never heard of--"colorism"--bias against dark skinned women in South Asian communities.

Liliana Porter, The Square II, 1973

Liliana Porter: The Square and other Early Works at Sicardi Gallery, 5–7 pm. The Argentine conceptualist and her early work.



Marco Maggi: Fanfold at Sicardi Gallery, 5–8 pm. Not sure what to expect from this show based on the photos and description, but Maggi has done very interesting work in the past.



Galina Kurlat: Inherent Traits at Peveto, 6–8 pm. Galina Kurlat creates beautiful photos, and I expect to see more beautiful photos in this show of self-portraits.


Tom Marioni's The Act of Drinking Beer With Friends is the Highest Form of Artat the BLAFFER Art Museum, 6 pm to 9 pm. A well-lubricated performance of of Tom Marioni's famous conceptual piece, part of their show Feast.


Elvira Sarmiento, “Tu con El” Homenaje a Posada, 1913–2013. Solar Plate, Size: 19” x 27.5”

Elvira Sarmiento: Alludere Posada at the Museum of Printing History, 6–8 pm. Continuing with their tributes to José Guadalupe Posada is this solo show by Mexican printmaker Elvira Sarmiento.



Shepard and Dark by Treva Wurmfeld at  Sundance 2, 6:30 pm. Documenting the friendship of playwright Sam Shepard and Johnny Dark.



Paris, Texas at Sundance Cinemas, 9:40 pm. My favorite move set in Houston. The best freeway shots ever filmed!

FRIDAY



Jamel Shabazz: Street Photographer by Charlie Ahearn at Project Row Houses Eldorado Ballroom, 10:30 am. , and at Sundance Cinemas, 9:30 pm. The director of Wild Style, Charlie Ahearn, turns his camera on Bronx photographer Jamel Shabazz.



"CUTIE AND THE BOXER" work by USHIO SHINOHARA at Zoya Tommy Contemporary, 4-7 pm. A pop-up show to accompany the documentary about Shinohara.

North of South, West of East at Cinema 16, 1 pm and 6:30 pm.

Harry Dean Stanton: Partly Fiction at Sundance Cinema, 1 pm.

Geraldo Rosales

Gerardo Rosales at Avis Frank Gallery, 6–8 pm. His statement says that his art is about "about homophobia, sexuality, violence, loneliness and the imagery of the 'bear' subculture within the gay community." And sometimes it's about two headed ducks wearing a giant shoe.


an older painting by Danielle Frankenthal: Camelot,  acrylic paint on three transparent acrylic resin panels, 36 x 48 in

Danielle Frankenthal: Turbulence at Wade Wilson Art, 6 to 8 pm. She has an interesting interactive painting up at CAMH, so what better time for a solo gallery show?


Houston vs Austin featuring James Burns, Chris Cascio, Galina Kurlat, Jonathan Leach, Patrick Turk, Jerry Defrese, Hector Hernandez, Syraya Horton, Koseph Phillips and Lana Waldrep at BLUEorange Contemporary, 6–9 pm. Galina Kurlat appears in her second opening in two nights in this potential bloodbath pitting Houston artists against Austin artists. Maybe they can get John Nova Lomax to officiate.



Art Hard by Meredith Danluck at Cinema 16 at 9:00 pm. Jim Deneven makes the world's largest work of art on Lake Baikal.

SATURDAY


11th Annual Book Fair at the Museum of Printing History, 10 am – 5 pm. Oh so many lovely books, including plenty of art books from Exquisite Corpse.



Charlie Ahearn’s Hip-Hop Videos at Cinema 16 at 1 pm. From the director of Wild Style, nine videos that look totally fun.


Perry House, 3-5-11, Helter Skelter series,2011,  acrylic on canvas, 36x36 inches

PERRY HOUSE "Explosions" at HBU Contemporary Art Gallery, 1 to 4 pm. OK, this is a bit mysterious since it is not listed on HBU's way out of date webpage. It is listed on Glasstire, though. And Perry House is always worth seeing.



Persistence of Vision by Kevin Schreck at Sundance cinemas at 3:30 pm. A documentary about an unfinished animated film by the great Richard Williams.

North of South, West of East at Cinema 16 at 4 pm.


If the van's a-rockin'

The Art Guys: Loop along the 610 Loop from  5 pm Saturday to 5 pm Sunday. The 11th of their 12 events, they will drive around 610 Loop in the van pictured above (currently on view at Memorial City Mall--take that, Galleria!) for 24 hours. They will stay in contact with people via Facebook and Twitter, and you can just call the Guys up during the performance on a temporary phone line, 832-712-6207. Of course, you could just drive along side them--their van will be easy to spot!


Life Goes On… I Keep Singing by Jonas Mekas at Deborah Colton Gallery, 6 pm. Photos and videos by the great Jonas Mekas.



Jeremy Rourke: Live Music and Animation at Cinema 16 at 8:15. Jeremy Rourke is a musician/anumator who will be combining the two.



Wild Style by Charlie Ahearn at Sundance Cinema at 9:45 pm. If you want to be reminded that hip hop is old, watch this classic movie, Wild Style, from 1983. One of several Charlie Ahearn movies being shown at the festival.



Madeleine Dietz: What Remains at Gallery Sonja Roesch, 5–7 pm. These very interesting pieces toy with being architecture or interior decoration. Their liminal ambiguity combined with their beauty appeals to me a lot.

SUNDAY



Time Shift: The Films of Scott Stark at Cinema 16 at 1:00 pm. Austin experimental filmmaker Scott Stark is showcased.



Approved for Adoption at Sundance Cinema  at 1:15 pm. Interesting looking autobiographical film by cartoonist Jung Hemin. Born in South Korea, he was adopted and brought up in Belgium. His comics work looks (to my eyes) like typical Belgian adventure comics (with Asian settings). I can't find any examples of more personal comics work by Jung Hemin--except this movie.

Life Goes On… I Keep Singing at the Deborah Colton Gallery at 2 pm


North of South, West of East at Cinema 16, 6:15 pm and 8:45.


Antonio Berni, Ramona en la calle, de la serie Ramona Montiel y sus amigos (Ramona in the Street, from the series Ramona Montiel and Her Friends), 1966, xylo-collage-relief 

Antonio Berni: Juanito and Ramona at the Museum of Fine Arts, 10 am – 5 pm. Argentine artist Antonio Berni created his characters Juanito and Ramona in the mid-50s and continued to depict them in various media for the rest of his life. This show brings them together in the U.S. for the first time.

MONDAY

Life Goes On… I Keep Singing at Deborah Colton Gallery at 9:30 am

TUESDAY

Life Goes On… I Keep Singing at Deborah Colton Gallery at 9:30 am.


Houston Short Film Fund: World Premiere Screening featuring Kathryn Kane, Lauren Kelley, Douglas Newman, Jerry Ochoa and more at Sundance Cinema at 6:45. SWAMP (the best acronym ever) helped fund these short films by Houston filmmakers.

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Tuesday, November 5, 2013

The Chimeras of Louviere+Vanessa

Robert Boyd

Jeff Louviere and Vanessa Brown are photographers from New Orleans who exhibit their collaborative work under the name Louviere+Vanessa. Their work has a deliberately antique look. They ascribe the look of their photos to their city: "We live in New Orleans. Time here has no context, the whole city is like a photograph, frozen in an old moment but continually aging." One might also add that new Orleans is a city redolent with magic and the supernatural, which their art addresses.


Louviere+Vanessa, Dextrorsum, 2005, inkjet on handmade gampi paper with wax and blood, 53 x 33 inches

Dextrorsum depicts a man with a mask and rags, a savage Caliban-like creature. The image is blurred and damaged and yellowed so that it looks like a 19th century photograph.

In the 19th century, some photographers were obsessed with capturing on film what they eye could not see. Eadweard Muybridge is the best known now, primarily because he succeeded so well in his task. But there were also those who took "spirit photographs"--frauds who preyed on the desperate for the most part. Their photos were fakes, as are Louviere+Vanessa's. The difference is that Louviere+Vanessa aren't trying to fool anyone, any more than John Heartfield was with his photomontages.


Louviere+Vanessa, Custos Lux, 2005, inkjet on handmade gampi paper with wax and blood, 53 x 33 inches

Both Dextrorsum and Custos Lux feature figures in masks. They reminded me of Josh Bernstein's double-eagle mask, and in fact Louviere+Vanessa's work on the whole reminds me of Bernstein's  Galveston project. They both link their work to a place with telluric supernatural forces. Bernstein's work seems deeper to me, in part because I know the history and mythology Bernstein has woven into this body of work. Louviere+Vanessa may have a similar mythology underlying their work. But without knowing it, what we end up with are beautifully-wrought, spooky images.


Louviere+Vanessa, 945-Flying, 2005, inkjet on handmade gampi paper with wax and blood, 53 x 33 inches 

And that's enough. This was a perfect Halloween show and excellent artworks for the collector with a taste for goth. 945-Flying is a delightfully ghostly image.  But their work doesn't quite cross over into the uncanny. Looking at it is like watching the average horror movie or reading ghost stories. Such films and books may entertain, but they rarely transcend the genre-- House of Leaves or Mulholland Drive are notable exceptions. And, among photographers, so are the Starn Twins or Joel-Peter Witkin.


Louviere+Vanessa, A Barking Dog Never Bites, 2011, inkjet on kozo paper on mirror with resin, 8 x 10 inches

I wouldn't quite put Louviere+Vanessa in that class. Instead, they produce strange, witty images like  A Barking Dog Never Bites. Louviere+Vanessa create beautiful images, with is more than most photographers ever accomplish.


Louviere+Vanessa, Still Life with Amnesia, 2009, cinegraph, 18 x 22 inches

But with a few pieces in the show, they go further and create something uncanny. They call pieces like Still Life with Amnesia "cinegraphs". They are made by laying strips of super-8 film (an obsolete home-movie film stock) out in parallel strips. The image is exposed, and the work is displayed in a light box (super-8 film, like all movie film, is transparent). Why this seems uncanny to me is it's disruptive nature.

When we watch a film, we have certain expectations--that it will start and end and that there will be some moving images between the start and the end. For those of you old enough to have seen non-digital films, recall a time when the film got stuck. It starts to melt before your eyes. The film is literally split in two parts. And the bargain that film has made with you your whole life is broken. To me, the cinegraphs are breaking the bargain of film as well. It's a deliberate rupture (unlike the melting film, which is accidental). And that rupture is uncanny.


Louviere+Vanessa, Still Life with Amnesia (detail), 2009, cinegraph, 18 x 22 inches

Louviere+Vanessa are on view dm allison art through November 16.

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Monday, November 4, 2013

Appropriation/Exchange: Posada and his Descendents

Robert Boyd

 
Dennis McNett, Wolfbat Storyteller (Mask), 2011, wood armature, paper mâché, woodcut prints, 36 x 30 x 26 inches

Dennis McNett in the information card that accompanies Wolfbat Storyteller writes that as a teen, he was impressed by punk rock and skateboard graphics. "When I took my first printmaking class and pulled my first woodblock print it was graphic, bold, and raw. It had the same aesthetic of everything I was into during my early teens." As a printmaker, his eyes were opened to German Expressionist graphics, Japanese woodcuts and the great Mexican printmaker José Guadalupe Posada. Studying Posada, he saw the "similarity with the punk movement, energy, and graphic sensibility." I think this particular artistic journey is one that many of the artists in Messengers of the Posada Influence, on view at the Museum of Printing History, have more-or-less taken.

This is on my mind because of an editorial recently published by Free Press Houston , "White People Are Killing Day of the Dead". Its author, Luciano Picasso, calls the use of the Day of the Dead by what he identifies as "white organizations" racist.
This goes for Lawndale Art Center in Houston, Texas. Their 26th Dia de Los Muertos exhibit is the 26th time they turn Day of the Dead into a cultural garage sale to make money. They lump in Dia de Los Muertos with a Gala and Retablo Silent Auction so they can insult us twice over, and there is not one actual alter on their premises that speaks to that day. They make money off this mess to pay for their White programming all year long. I’m sure they will give us the same lip service the Texas Book Festival gave: we have a Hispanic intern  . . . yada yada yada . . . the equivalent of “I’m not racist because I shagged a Hispanic once.”
This goes for the Museum of Fine Arts Houston (MFAH). This is another example of a White arts group taking money for Latino outreach and never reaching Latinos. They’ve got several events for “Day of the Dead” including a DJ party with IKEA-the Swedish plundering of our demographic, and a couple of sorry ass lectures by Germans showing slides of their cool adventures in Mexico. Wow, deep. See, this proves that MFAH stands for Mother Fucking Ass Holes.
It's hard to read this editorial because it is so vituperative and hate-filled. I guess the Museum of Printing History is lucky they didn't get called out by name. I doubt Luciano Picasso would have approved of Wolfbat Storyteller.

But it is hard for me to see McNett's appropriation of Posada's imagery (and via Posada, imagery from the Day of the Dead) as anything but homage to a master. It is an expression of respect.


Artemio Rodriguez, Dia de Muertos en Edo, 2012, linoleum cut print, 25.5 x 16 inches

Of course Luciano Picasso's editorial implies a one-dimensional world of racist appropriators of a victim's culture. It can't explain an image like Dia de Muertos en Edo. Who's appropriating what? Artemio Rodriguez, a Mexican print-maker, went to Japan where he made this print. It's a playful combination of two disparate cultural elements--a 19th century street scene in Edo (as Tokyo was was called until 1868) and the Day of the Dead calaveras.


Artemio Rodriguez, Payasos piden a la virgen alto a la maldita crisis, 2013, linoleum cut, 18.5 x 22 inches

A satirical artist like Rodriguez doesn't worry about offending cultural sensibilities, such as when he sends this group of clowns to make an offering to the Virgin Mary. Except that this is an actual thing--clowns do march every year to make offerings to the Virgin! That's what true satirists discover--and that includes Posada himself--that reality frequently exceeds your ability to make fun of it. All you can do is draw it and proclaim, this crazy thing exists.


Tom Huck, Possum Promenade from "The Bloody Bucket" series, 2000-2005, woodcut, 51.5 x 37.5 inches

Printmaker Tom Huck spoke on the night of the opening. His talk covered his own work and Posada's about whom he was very knowledgeable. The influence was direct--he even tried to use paper that matched the color of the yellowed newsprint on which Posada's woodcuts were printed. But his work avoids the motifs of Posada. Huck comes up with his own. But where the two artists are similar is in their rage and their humor. "The Bloody Bucket" was a series of enormous manic satirical prints. Like Posada or Hogarth or Gillray or so many others, he can be quite jolly while exposing the underside of the society in which we live. The Bloody Bucket was a bar in his hometown of Potosi, Missouri. He takes typical habitués and creates narrative images of them--some mildly pathetic, like the loveable loser dancing with a broom above.


Tom Huck, Joe's Meat Grinder from "The Bloody Bucket" series, 2000-2005, woodcut, 51.75 x 45.75 inches 

Other barflies are less appealing, like the racist WWII vets in Joe's Meat Grinder.  Huck spoke about how he'd hear about "the greatest generation" in reverent terms, and how that didn't jibe with his own experiences at all--that the WWII vets he knew were all unreconstructed racists. That's what a good satirist does--he goes after sacred cows.


The Amazing Hancock Brothers and Carlos Hernandez, Posada: 100 Years On (24 of 100 prints), 2013, screenprint, 18 x 24 inches each

Carlos Hernandez and the Amazing Hancock Brothers teamed up for this enormous tribute to their master. The individual prints in Posada: 100 Years On are full of visual quotes from Posada. Hernandez and the Hancock's have similar styles, but the layering of image and color here reminds me more of Hernadez's work than the Hancocks. Of course, in a collaborative work like this, it's hard to know who did what, and certainly they all have a similar aesthetic--they are, as Huck spoke about in his talk, "outlaw printmakers," who take inspiration from folk culture and often despised subcultures (sideshow banners, for example). Obviously the Day of the Dead is huge for Hernandez--his work is full of calaveras. Every year he puts together a Day of the Dead Rock Stars exhibit. He designed a calavera label for St. Arnold's beer. Their kaleidoscopic remixing of Posada is a beautiful tribute.


The Amazing Hancock Brothers and Carlos Hernandez, Posada: 100 Years On (detail), 2013, screenprint, 18 x 24 inches each

When I see a show like this, I'm reminded of one of my favorite songs, "Chiclete Com Banana", written by Gordurinha and Almira Castilho.

Eu só boto bebop no meu samba
Quando o Tio Sam tocar o tamborim
Quando ele pegar no pandeiro e no zabumba
Quando ele aprender que o samba não é rumba
Aí então eu vou misturar Miami com Copacabana
Chiclete eu misturo com banana
E o meu samba vai ficar assim:
bop-be-bop-be-bop bop-be-bop-be-bop
Eu quero ver a confusão

(I’ll only put bebop in my samba
When Uncle Sam plays the tamborim
When he grabs the pandeiro and zabumba
When he learns that samba isn’t rumba
Then I’ll mix Miami with Copacabana
I’ll mix chewing gum with bananas
And my samba will turn out like this:
bop-be-bop-be-bop bop-be-bop-be-bop
I want to see the confusion )

I first heard this sung by Gilberto Gil, but I like the original 1959 Jackson do Pandeiro version better. When I see the work of the artists in this show, from the U.S. and Mexico, I see the "confusion." And it's glorious.

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Sunday, November 3, 2013

Exiles at El Rincón Social

Robert Boyd

I want to quote the description of Exile, an exhibit at El Rincón Social. This ran on their Facebook invitation to the event.
Exile explores the boundaries between individual expression and the disintegration of human traces on the economic, social, and political field. The artists featured in this exhibition use artifacts as a means to evoke the obscurity of this disintegration — exploring with materials to communicate and testify to a suppressed history. Exile presents works that recontextualize exiled historical narratives into present personal narratives.

Stripping away the boundaries of genres, these works internally remap the notion of a frontier as a mode of resistance. Incorporating found materials, optic distortions, photography, video, and paintings recounting art historical tales, the artists emphasize the weight of personal accounts to disrupt the structures of image making. Resulting in questions of the self, the psychological landscapes developed in these works denote a regenerative introspection.
Reader, do you have any idea what this means? If so, I invite you to translate this into ordinary English in the comments. It made me think there were three possibilities. First, that it was deliberately obfuscatory, which would be a dick move. Second, that it was badly written, but not on purpose. And third, I'm dumb. (While option three is obviously true, I think options one and two are also possible.) Whichever the case, this text made me want to not see the exhibit. 

But Saturday night rolled around and I  decided to check it out despite all. And did the things I saw there have anything to do with the statement above? Was there any "regenerative introspection"? Were "exiled historical narratives recontextualized"? Did this art "remap the notion of a frontier as a mode of resistance"? Fuck if I know, but maybe you can decide when you see some photos of some of the work.



Robert Nava, (left) I didn't mean to, (center top) untitled, (center bottom) Love Circle, (right top) The Monster 4, (right bottom) Parrot Café Cupcake, 12 x 12 each, acrylic, charcoal, pencil, crayon on paper

Robert Nava has a suite of small drawings that, with the exception of the text piece in the center, are deliberately childlike. When I write "childlike," I don't mean "done in a charmingly naif fashion," I mean in imitation of actual tropes of children's drawings. Take a look at the work he has on his website--it's more of the same as you see here, but both the subject matter and the visual problem solving are based around things a 1st grade teacher would find common.


Robert Nava, Love Circle, 12 x 12 each, acrylic, charcoal, pencil, crayon on paper

Then there is Love Circle, which is a little more "adult"--or at least adolescent--than the other drawings. It's a funny transcription of a thought process. The irony is the thought that this note would have been sent to the writer's beloved. It's like when someone says, "Did I just say that out loud?"

I'd like to address Nava's work within the stated purpose of the show, but since I don't  understand the purpose, let me simply say that it seems very unlike the other work in this eclectic gathering. But the same could be said of most of the work. There were however several pieces that had a similar vibe--a grungy bricolage that reflected El Rincón Social itself.


Darwin Arevalo, untitled, cement on wood, 2013

Like Darwin Arevalo's untitled piece, dwarfed by its own pedestal, casually leaning against a wall. Cement on scrap wood by all appearances. All you can say about this is that it is art. As Arthur Danto said, it embodies an idea. But what idea is not something we viewers are privy to. But at least we know its art because it's on a plinth and it's in an art show.


Oscar Rene Cornejo, Horizonte, 2103, cotton pillow casing, woodblock on hand made paper, Brick, nail, plasti-kap, acrylic, oil stick, xerox on wood

Oscar Rene Cornejo's Horizonte is even easier to see as art. It has formal qualities we associate with art--composition, art materials, and it hangs on a wall like a painting. And it is a painting except for its use of non-painting materials. But that barrier was broken long ago--and one of those who broke it was Rauschenberg. He didn't shy away from using paint, but he'd put anything on the wall. Whatever else Horizonte is, it is a work that recalls Rauschenberg--so much so that it comes across as an homage. Even the xerox element reminds one of the crude half-tone silk-screen elements in many of Rauschenberg's best known works. And the bricolage elements of course recall Rauschenberg.


Sandra Cornejo, Cenizas Bajo Los Comales, 2013, volcanic slate, 8 x 12 inches each

Cenizas Bajo Los Comales by Sandra Cornejo contains three parts, each with a dark bottom half, a lighter top half, and a dark line extending up into the lighter half. So they appear to be three drawings, basically. They could be read as landscapes with single monoliths rising from the horizons. Both the light and dark parts are pretty dark--the values of light and dark here are actually quite close. It gives the images a menacing crepuscular appearance, as if these were three distant views of Barad-dûr. But actually I have no idea if these are meant to be landscapes at all, or if they are simply three similar abstract images. The title means "ashes on the griddles." A comal is usually made of cast iron but they can be made of clay. Can one be made of slate? Could these, in fact, be objects that had been used for cooking? In which case, the colors would be the burned remnants of whatever was cooked on them. I like that they could be interpretation is inherently ambiguous here--meals cooked, a geometric form, a menacing tower.



Caroline Chandler, Key, Keeper, Connector, cotton yarn, 53 x 93 inches

For some reason, there are a lot of three-part works in this show.  Cenizas Bajo Los Comales faces Key, Keeper, Connector by Caroline Chandler. The "key" and the "connector" are easy enough to understand. I don't quite get the "keeper" part. Drawn like this, they also resemble letters of an alphabet similar to but not identical to ours. A code perhaps. Therefore the three together look like a word. And if it is a coded words, the title is quite suggestive. But again, Key, Keeper, Connector defies simple interpretation. After all, the fact that it is knit or crocheted out of yarn is obviously important--why else use such a laborious technique? Like so much of the work in this exhibit, it's a head-scratcher.  But it's the kind of enigma that is quite pleasing. At least, it is to me.


Rushern Baker IV, untitled, 2013, acrylic on canvas, 11 x 14 inches each

It's probably hard to tell in this photo, but the left and right panels of Rushern Baker's untitled triptych are mirror images. Each depicts a parallelogram that looks like a floating square that has been angled to the viewer. One is black and one is silver. They both seem to be floating in space against the sky--a day sky on the left and a night sky on the right. The middle image seems completely abstract, although I guess it could be said to be showing a morning or evening sky seen from within a hole. In any case, all three images are very painterly with some thick impasto, and all three seem slightly menacing and uncanny, just as Cenizas Bajo Los Comales did. I liked that about them. So near Halloween, it's nice to be a little spooked.


Blanka Amezkua, selections from Corners and Body series, 2011-the present, 6 x 9 inches each

Not all the art in the show is assemblage or painting. There is some lens-based art, such as the photos by Blanka Amezkua from her Corners and Body series. In most of these, there is an architectural corner in which someone (Amezkua?) is standing facing the corner with her hands above her head as if she is about to take off, Superman style. You can see a lot more of these images here. The odd thing about the prints was that they seemed to be on some kind of silvery paper, so any "white" that showed through in the images appeared silver. (This quality doesn't come through in the photo here.)


Sondra Perry, Double Quadruple Etcetera Etcetera II, 2013, HD single channel video loop, color, silent

The two Double Quadruple Etcetera Etcetera videos by Sondra Perry were among my favorite pieces in the show. In them, a person with dreadlocks is dancing frenetically. It's like the dancing you'd see in the audience of a hardcore punk band back in the 80s. The body of the dancer is cunningly blurred. The video is silent, which gives it the feeling of a surveillance video. The setting is in the corner of a mostly featureless white room. It has an institutional appearance.

Given all this, what are we seeing? In a way, the dancing figure has an unreality about him that might remind you of the supernatural character Sadako in the film Ringu. It's a deeply disturbing, uncanny image--a good part of what makes this movie so terrifying. But at the same time, the frenetic blurred movements might make you think of the Tasmanian Devil in the old Warner Brothers cartoons. It is a simultaneously disturbing and funny image, equal parts horror movie and Saturday morning cartoon.


David Salinas, Ed, 2013, silver gelatin weave, 5 x 5 feet

This gigantic photo-mosaic portrait by David Salinas was another favorite. Ed is so massive that his face won't even fit into this large frame. The splatter along the edge of the image also hints at Ed's massiveness--he's literally exploding out of the box he's in. This image is a warm celebration of "Ed," a guy who has been around the block a few times. He's seen some shit. It's a heroic image of an ordinary man.

These are just some of the twenty-one works by eighteen artists in the show. Do these heterogeneous pieces of art have anything in common? Beyond the nonsensical statement, is there any theme or concept here? If anything, I'd say they share a modesty and rough-hewn home-made quality. I wouldn't want to see this in a sleeker white cube gallery. But in El Rincón Social, they look just right.


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