« Field Trip Day! | Main | Friday Food: Greener Green Beans »
September 23, 2005
The Fragile Species (is apparently not gorillas, as previously thought)
“The Fragile Species” -- Frist Center for the Visual Arts. Nashville, TN. Through September 25.
Suspended by a web of threads, a papery, translucent blouse and skirt -- Barbara Yontz’s “Especially Considering Exposure” -- hover at the entrance to “The Fragile Species." The clothes seem simultaneously antique and ethereal: silken and wispy but still yellowed and brittle. This ghostly heirloom, with its secret and surprising origin, is a prime example of the ways that this show, at its best, is simultaneously confessional and reticent.
The exhibition sets out to contemplate “human frailty,” and the approaches range from intimate self-disclosure to whimsical flights of fancy and ironic comments on greater humanity’s finitude. The works are grouped into five rooms, and each room is prefaced by curatorial texts that introduce a common thematic element within the smaller gallery.
The pieces in the first room revolve around trauma, both emotional and physical. Erin Hewgley’s “Use It,” a latex sculpture of an inverted, headless, armless torso, is among the most striking. Meticulously rendered, the classically beautiful figure grows increasingly difficult to view as signs of violence and damage become more apparent. The limbs, hips, and head seem to have been ripped away, leaving raw, dripping edges and grotesquely crumpled stubs. The pain communicated is poignantly authentic, and, after reading that the artist herself was a rape victim, it becomes even more specific.
Barbara Yontz, whose delicate skirt and blouse hang at the beginning of the show, has two other pieces further into the exhibition. These forms are more evocative than representational and are fashioned from the same papery substance -- a material which, we are now told, is actually hog intestine. It’s an unsettling connection: the exquisite gossamer concoctions suddenly tie us to animals, to bodily functions, and to death.
Some of the most captivating pieces cluster in the exhibition’s final room. Lain York’s “Fing” is a gorgeously textured, layered painting that melts colors, symbols, and features into a “mask” that recalls African tribal crafts but also resonates with the contemporary viewer. Billy Renkl collages miniscule square fragments of maps into silhouetted children’s profiles, turning national borders into an outline of innocent features. And Mark Hosford’s brilliantly colored silkscreens are so visually entrancing that they have little need for their accompanying texts. The graphic, dynamic figures within could tell as many stories as the viewer can imagine.
Generally, the show boasts an arresting visual presence; many artists seem fixated on the possibilities of texture, and others use scale as a semantic ally. Thus, despite the breadth of media and presentation, the overarching aesthetic weaves the pieces with each other and with the undeniably intriguing theme. Unfortunately, the theme of frailty occasionally – and ironically – becomes a bludgeon, as the visitor is confronted almost constantly with texts that precisely spell out how the work “should” be interpreted. By giving primacy to the artists’ statements of meaning rather than descriptions of process, the individual placards run the risk of being irksome or, worse still, repressive and didactic.
While the exhibit aims to “explore” life’s transience but the human spirit’s resilience, it’s interesting to note how uncomfortable these artists seem to be with this human condition. The notion of frailty is embodied as something fascinating but fearful, a reality that is unquestionable but also undesirable. Even so, the range of optical pleasures left me delighted that my material body can see and feel, small and vulnerable as it may be.
(Read the extended entry for more descriptions of individual pieces)
Other favorites:
Walking into the second gallery, the immediate focal point is the ivory explosion in the far corner. Small, shell-like objects in increasing sizes emanate out from the walls’ joint, scattering in a softly expanding spray. Upon closer inspection, it becomes clear that the “shells” are actually casts of doll ears. According to the label, this is Jack Dingo Ryan’s “Blood and Guts Forever,” meant to suggest the decreasing density of sound waves and to communicate the isolation he felt after experiencing hearing loss as a child.
...
The rustling delicacy of Barbara Yontz's works contrast nicely with the cluster of Michael Baggarly’s chair sculptures in the middle of the same room. Baggarly joins familiar, wooden chairs into impossible puzzles that reflect the complexities and tensions of human relationships and are both fanciful and insightful.
Art , Writing | By elissa | 03:34 PM
Trackback Pings
TrackBack URL for this entry:
http://chattablogs.com/mt/mt-tb.cgi/25982
Listed below are links to weblogs that reference The Fragile Species (is apparently not gorillas, as previously thought):
