Object
dberman gallery
- Rebecca S. Cohen -
Summer exhibitions generally fall into one of two categories. With clients on vacation and temperatures on the rise, some gallerists use the summer as an opportunity to test the draw of new artists; others relax the pressure by pulling existing works out of storage. Small works anyone? Landscapes? Why not have a little summer fun with a “capricious” (the adjective employed by the folks at d berman gallery on their invitation) group exhibition?
Object, dberman’s theme-based July exhibition, cleverly combines both summer impulses by presenting work by gallery regulars Lauren Levy and Lance Letscher, as well as newcomers Marjorie Moore, Steve Wiman and Gladys Poorte. The result is magical, dispelling any attempt to dismiss the show as a placeholder until the “real” exhibition schedule resumes in September. With a predilection for junk and childhood memorabilia, Object simultaneously confounds and affirms what we know of the world.
Lauren Levy’s button-covered sculptures, wire armatures shaped to resemble headless animals or empty coats, also incorporate pencils splayed from various, button-lined orifices. While her use of antique buttons to fashion little coats, dresses and headless creatures does generate a measure of melancholy, sharpened pencils jut forward, making a different and somewhat more hostile point.
Lance Letscher, Jets, 2005
Collage on masonite
10 5/8 x 7 3/8 inches
Lance Letscher exhibits collages banded on four sides by patterns composed of old books and the occasional kitchen-centric image; inside the borders, one topic dominates each work. In Jets, Letscher collages pictures of airplanes onto the backs of books; in Hot Plate, tires rule. These repetitive images—small, medium and large—generate frenetic energy within their preestablished borders. Airplanes swarm in a sky-blue, textured atmosphere; fat black tires roll toward the viewer.
Two of Letscher’s sculptures are also on display. Their juxtaposition illustrates a clear shift in the artist’s attitude during the fifteen-year gap between their construction. For The Moon, created in 1992, Letscher carved marble and wood into a small, somber harp with a skull perched on top. Striped Shoes (2005) involves a pair of slip-on sneakers covered by the artist’s trademark: collage-based color and pattern.
Marjorie Moore, Fecund Tondo#5, 2005
Ink and oil on Corian
10 inches in diameter
Marjorie Moore’s work has also shifted since her exhibition of drawings of sock monkeys at dberman some years ago; she now paints on Corian disks. Objects, both found and appropriated, serve as supports for small mystical vignettes featuring toy monkeys and toads surrounded by leaves and vines. Moore’s beautifully detailed flora and fauna seem to be slipping into—and out of—space and time. Her imagery calls to mind classic children’s book illustrations, as well as the traditions of Dutch still-life painting and botanical illustration.
Steve Wiman’s primary medium is synonymous with the exhibition’s title. Wiman “paints” with objects, arranged directly on the wall. Here, he presents two such works as well as a site-specific installation: a stack of frayed books arranged within a tall vertical opening in a wall. The piece can be viewed from inside the gallery and from the street. Wiman’s other works consist of random objects and swatches of fabric, including a partially folded T-shirt, placed on the wall within an implied square. Each object has been carefully selected by color and, to some extent, by its relationship (size or function) to the other objects on display. In each case, a soft, gradual change in hue evokes landscapes as if seen from a high vantage point, simulating the way sunlight slowly changes the color of treetops and rivers as the day passes. There may be nothing new under the sun, but how we arrange the objects around us can make a startling difference in perception.
Steve Wiman, Stack of Ragged Books, 2005
Found objects
59 x 11 x 8 inches
Gladys Poorte also arranges objects in unique ways; she then paints their picture. Poorte poses toys, tools, kitchen utensils, spools, etc. within contrived dioramas of textured fabrics. (Initially, I imagined the artist raiding her now-teenage sons’ toy boxes for the subjects in her paintings, but was surprised to find she has daughters rather than sons.)
Poorte illumines each detail—every hill, dale and player—with a dramatic flare and the resolve of a Broadway set designer. She first selects an extreme vantage point, sometimes way above the clouds, sometimes bug-high in the grass gazing up at impossible barricades. She creates surreal, private worlds—mini-landscapes with mountains, valleys and rushing streams.
There is a militaristic bent in some of Poorte’s scenarios; small but not so playful battles seem to be in progress. Invented waterways shimmer with light, while printed fabric hills and valleys project weight and an otherworldly presence. The viewer feels the heat of Poorte’s palette and the tension of her brushstrokes, as well as the visible discomfort of the tiny players on each improvised stage.
Poorte is a newcomer to the gallery and a relative newcomer to Texas. Born and raised in Argentina, she initially taught English for a living. Her interest in art came later, after she had moved to the United States. Before long, I suspect we will be seeing her work throughout the state—in summer, landscape-based theme shows, perhaps.