Insiteful Collaborations
By Tom Wachunas
Of all the ideas
for a group show offered by Translations curator Craig Joseph across the past
several years, this one, called “Paper, Rock, Scissors: The Art of War,” is in
his words, “…one of our wildest concepts yet.” I couldn’t agree more, and I
would add that it’s one of the most enchanting, too, in the grandest sense of
the word. So to continue, I’ll first give you Craig Joseph’s initial media
release (the exhibit has been up since October’s First Friday):
“We got together with five of our favorite
artists - painters Steve Ehret and Kat Francis, and sculptors Gail Trunick, Kelly Rae, and Breanna
Boulton. Together we brainstormed fifteen different environments - for
example an abandoned carnival, a trailer park, a meadow, a train yard, etc. Together
Steve and Kat have painted fifteen large and gorgeous landscape paintings - 2'x
4' and 3' x 5'. Then, our sculptor ladies were handed the task of building
people or creatures or beings that would inhabit these environments. The catch?
One of them would build and incorporate paper, one would build and incorporate
natural materials, and one would build and incorporate metal. And the final
result is fifteen scenes of sorts, with the creatures doing battle on little
shelves with the landscape paintings as backdrops. You, the audience, will get
to decide who wins: paper, rock, or scissors.”
Remember? Paper wraps rock, rock breaks
scissors, scissors cut paper. Here then, an old children’s game has morphed
into 15 ambitious tableaux. Each work includes a trio of cleverly constructed
resident characters. I say “characters” only because these works have a
particularly theatrical sensibility, as if they could be set designs for an
elaborate stage production featuring some sort of confrontation or aggression
among the denizens of a given environment.
Those environments
are represented through exquisitely executed oil-on-panel paintings. More
fascinating is the fact that while these luscious backdrops are collaborative
configurations, they’re visually seamless. This is to say that in any given
painting there’s no ostensible break in style or technique across the picture
plane. Which artist contributed what aspects? That would be my direct question
to the painters, Steve Ehret and Kat Francis, when I see them at the artists talkback scheduled for Monday, Nov.
16 at 7:00 p.m. in the gallery. I
include here a link to the public invitation:
In each of these
scenarios, the “battle” on the shelf placed just below the painting isn’t
necessarily a graphic illustration of a conflict in progress, though sometimes
that much is implied. The iconography tends instead to be somewhat elliptical
in that regard, and seems to symbolize confrontations that could be in the past,
present, or yet to come.
Four
of the five artists here are women, including the three sculptors: Gail
Trunick, Kelly Rae, and Breanna Boulton. Their manipulations of diverse substances
are remarkably inventive. The elemental physicality of their pieces reminds me
that efficacious representations of war, whether metaphorical or literal, are
not the strict purview of men alone. While there are some objects we might
regard as relatively whimsical or delicate in their conveyance of a “feminine”
perspective, in most of the pieces, it is an aggressive and powerfully poetic
spirit that abides in their earthen materiality.
Conceptually, the
integration of the women’s sculptures with the painted backdrops is often an
intriguing exercise in what one could call aesthetic alchemy. The juxtaposition
of 3D and 2D iconography can transform the immediately apparent content of the
2D backdrops into alternative realities. For example, viewed by itself, the
painting for Factory is a convincing
depiction of modern industrial architecture. But the accompanying sculptures
are eerie evocations of Dark Age weaponry or torture devices, imbuing the
painting with the suggestion of a medieval fortress. Similarly, while the
painting in Forest is sublimely
expressive of sylvan fecundity, the sculptures provide a nearly mythological
dimension that re-contextualizes the forest into a wholly numinous, magical
place.
To continue the
analogy to stage production, while the artists have engineered the sites
wherein various actions can occur, as well as the cast of players to carry them
out, YOU, the viewer, are ultimately the playwright. In that capacity, you get
to construct the narrative. It’s a subtle take on interactive art. Not simply a
passive observer, you’re a collaborator in completing the meaning of the work.
But in determining
the victor in any specific battle, beware. In this context, paper may well survive
an attack by scissors, rock might be too fragile to crush scissors, and
scissors rendered impotent against paper. Art wars can be unpredictable that
way.
PHOTOS, from top: Forest; Arctic Circle; Tribal Village;
Factory; Abandoned Amusement Park (detail)
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