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  Jerri Kunz, Sea of Love |
Love Connection Love Connection - 2040 Gallery, through March 29 Love Connection By Erina
Duganne Is Valentine's Day just another Hallmark holiday that we love to hate? 2040 Gallery owner Mo Scollan doesn't think so. And to challenge those more cynical folks, she's concocted "Love Connections," an exhibit of 20 predominantly Austin artists. Scollan chose this group largely for their spiritual and political outlooks. To further demonstrate her own love of them, she also gave them free reign in interpreting how to use the words "love" and "connection" in relation to their art. Unlike most exhibitions, this one emphasizes the connections between fine and functional contemporary art, and supports artists who engage in creative explorations across genres. Faith Gay's Drukgs is no exception. Consisting of board, paper, and polyurethane, this grid of luscious circles, constructions, retro colors, and a terrifically glossy surface creates a smorgasbord of pure visual delight. Phillippe Klinefelter's ebony necklace, Keep It Oiled, is equally electrifying. Although predicated on a seemingly simple design, Klinefelter's juxtaposition of two differently sized pieces of polished wood is anything but unsophisticated. Curator Scollan and Laura Garanzuay's table lamp - a green and blue floating dot shade atop a slender iron base - is a fixture of unadulterated fun. Jerri Kunz's dazzling wedding bag, Sea Of Love, is all about sensual pleasure, featuring pearl handles and a silk petal-like body. And there is, of course, much more. 2040 Gallery's "Love Connection," with all its heartfelt passion, may just be the perfect Valentine's Day treat. Opening: Friday, Feb. 14, 6-8pm. Through March 29. Hours: Wednesday-Saturday, 11am-5pm. 2040 S. Lamar. 912-0902. |
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Dream Space Gallery Lombardi fills a fantasy apartment with 'Secret Furniture' By Jeanne Claire van
Ryzin Maybe you can always get what you want. Maybe you just have to let go of a few secrets in order to do so. Fulfilling the heart's desire is what's behind "Secret Furniture," an exhibit at the warehouse cum art space Gallery Lombardi. Curators Rachel Koper, Mark Macek and Mike Stewart have set up something of an ideal loft apartment filled with one-of-kind furniture by 40 local and national designers, artisans and artists, configured into a kitchen, dining room, living room, study and bedroom. And though the designs may be somewhat disparate, they share a common attention to detail. And a little wildness. "Everybody has a little secret something they ask for when they commission a piece of furniture," explains Koper. And that might be a hidden drawer in a bed, a cabinet with a light that pops on when you open it or a secret latch on a dresser drawer. So what's your heart's desire? How about a metal folding chair by Clay Dillard. Its secret? When folded, it looks like a tulip. Wishing for a little whimsy? How about a pair of steel chairs by Patty Cater that seem to boogie with their fluidly shaped arms and legs. Or do you wish for something that makes good use of recycled materials? Designers Jean Goehring and John Garza of Chopshop crafted a chandelier from an old, slightly dented satellite dish, and designer Todd Campbell made a rug and a trash can out of wine corks. Stewart, himself an artist and designer, says that Austin's design scene is burgeoning with talent and on the verge of really coming into its own. "I see Austin really reaching out (design-wise)," he says. "There's a wide range of visions here and a great blend of both craft and concept here." His own work might be the best example of that. Working in collaboration with Los Angeles-based designer Jonas Hauptman, Stewart has produced a dining table and two prototypes of sleek, modernist chairs, all of which are made "of oriented strand board," a particle board-like material made from the chips left over when lumber is milled. "It's (an environmentally) green material," Stewart explains. And that's both clever and crafty. February 7 - March 1, Gallery Lombardi, 910 West Third Street |
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Beyond the Academy: Encouraging New Talent from Texas By Jeanne Claire van
Ryzin When it comes to the visual arts in Texas, how can you tell if there really is a here here? Lots of ways. For instance, you can take note of how new talent is incubated in the Lone Star State. "Beyond the Academy: Encouraging New Talent from Texas" does precisely that. And the encouraging conclusion it draws is that there's a lot of smart encouraging going on. And no knee-jerk regionalism. The Jones Center exhibit, featuring the works of 12 emerging artists and the six nationally recognized Texas artists who were their mentors, demonstrates that Texas artists have long been interested in more than just backyard bluebonnets. There's a here here all right. And it's very much connected to out there. Perhaps the clearest trajectory of influence can be seen in the work of Michael Ray Charles and his former students Zoë Charlton and Edward Monovich. Charles, who teaches at the University of Texas, upends stereotypical African American pop culture images with whip-smart irony. His work turns Sambo, Aunt Jemima and Uncle Tom into edgy, disconcerting faux-aged paintings that mimic broadsides for vaudeville acts or magazine covers. (Charles' poster for Spike Lee's "Bamboozled" famously proved too controversial for the New York Times to run in advertisements.) Charlton, likewise, undermines racial stereotypes, but does so from a more personal platform. An expressive draftsperson, she maps out large mixed-media drawings filled with her own codex of symbols that allude to racial and gender issues. In "Home Work Home," a trio of white men stands behind a cast iron bed, while in the foreground a nude African American woman avoids their gaze while severing her connection to a symbolic tether. Monovich tackles current events — specifically the repercussions of U.S. military actions in mixed-media drawings that are amalgamations of pop culture images. "Market Penetration" features an American eagle on the head of a roly-poly man in his boxers, all-American tattoos covering his body and a fighter plane screeching across the sky. Monovich has coated his brightly colored drawing with a shiny resin and invites viewers to write or draw on it with dry-erase markers. The folks at the Jones Center wipe it clean every so often when it gets too muddied up. On a recent visit, a few of the added comments included "I refuse to participate" and "Let me free!" Houston painter Peter Precourt utilizes the same expressive stroke as his mentor, University of Houston art professor Gael Stack (who was also Charles' teacher). But whereas Stack painted her personal responses to the spiritual mysteries of life, Precourt explores the role of men in public and in social situations. In "Señor Rafael de Paulo," Precourt takes that super stereotype of masculinity — the bullfighter — and turned him into a block-headed, featureless cartoonish robot. So much for machismo. Not all of the teacher-student matrices in "Beyond the Academy" reveal the traces of influences so overtly. Take the work of Bill Lundberg, longtime UT instructor and founder of that school's transmedia program, and his former student Sue Blevins. Lundberg is arguably one of the most important American pioneers of film and video installation. Just take a few moments to witness his 2001 work, "Wash." Three ordinary bath pedestal sinks line the gallery wall; into the basin of each is projected a film sequence of water filling the basin and an elderly man slowly washing his hands. With its simple symbolism of age and catharsis and its exquisite sense of timing (each sequence starts and ends at a different time), Lundberg's piece is a quiet meditation. Blevins revels in quiet, too, only she doesn't use video, just found objects. "Birth" is a slightly rusted, old-fashioned child's bathtub which she has skillfully lined with tufted pink satin. Like Lundberg's work, Blevins' resonates with mortality and vulnerability. And like "Wash," "Birth" says so softly. Ah, the sounds of silence. January 18 - March 9, Arthouse at the Jones Center, 700 Congress Ave. |
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