Monday, November 7, 2016

Dana Leyba's HERSTORY in alternative space

 [4 Nov]
Put on by the Women and Gender Studies program, Dana Leyba's show is displayed in an unexpected area, room 237–which is technically a hallway for the offices of some faculty in the Rachel Cooper building. Not only is this an interesting space to view student work, but there is very little information available to pick up, and there is of course no receptionist to help you navigate the motivation in the show's curation. With all of this in mind, Leyba's mysterious imagery has a lot of cohesive narrative.
The above image seemed an interesting excuse for using language, even literature with the library depicted behind the subject. However, upon a search of the phrase, it became clear that this is a reference to the self-portrait photography of a Claude Cahun. An avant-garde/surrealist photographer, Cahun challenged representations of gender around the turn of the 20th century. It seems evident then that this is the artist representing herself as a woman dismantling conceptions of gender identity. The location of these works suddenly gained more weight. I looked to the little postcard with information about the exhibition and found no description to either confirm or deny the introspection of the artist.
As this prior work surprised my expectations, the triptych (seen here in two images) seemed to have another subtle reference of its own. The three-dimensional leaves that framed each figure remind me of mythic, decorative representations of some goddess in a garden. All these works in the series at first look seem to beckon different moments of activity, inactivity, or expressiveness in the artist. The uncovered woman here reveals something more primal and less reserved than the prior piece. A graphic t-shirt is a form of self-identification however obscure, and nude exposure conveys either lewd behavior, ludic introspection of the body, or even a willingness to hold a liminal place–neither one nor the other. On either end of the carefully posed center figure is the subject either turning away or toward the audience. It is almost as though following a progression of events. From left to right we could form a narrative about privacy and self, but having these images side by side with just as much material as the next keeps me from doing such. It was not until viewing the initial painting (shown at the beginning of this post) that this feeling came into clearer focus.
Having all three figures in one landscape and canvas–in even closer proximity than before–gave me the notion that Leyba's self-portraits reveal a splintered personality. In the triptych it might be different iterations of time and mood, but in this work all come together and interact directly with one another. In what world outside of painting can this exist? For one thing I could assert that the women and their bodies have become symbolic or metaphorical representations, coexisting so as to question further how gender is constructed and performed. The only other conclusion I can make is that these women are related biologically and not conceptually. Their eye shadow and shirts/dresses make me wonder at their relationship. Whether or not these women are related in a social, biological or imagined sense, Leyba does well to make subtle gesture, pose and form from painting tradition permeate into her interests. The presentation might be oversimplified, but the series as a whole speaks volumes without the expected summary of works. A risky move that I would love to see taken more often.

Strange Oscillations – Splintered Poetry

[25 Oct]

Jan Bervin, The Dickinson Composite Series,

Fascicle 19–2004-08
Strange Oscillations and Vibrations of Sympathy was a refreshing literary trip. I am not much of a Virginia Woolf nor Sylvia Plath expert myself, but I am a sucker for poetry in art shows. The featured women in this show represent a wide variety of expression and media both past and present; from giant mason jars filled in a display case to flashing video segments, I was a bit dazed and confused carousing most of the opening. The direction of this show in particular reveals an intimate but common practice of all artists. We all have either our imagined muses or teachers across history in literature and the arts. These women, though, mostly engage with the material from a deeply personal perspective. They might revere or criticize what these women wrote, but for the most part I felt that they had a desire to extend their work into the language of visual culture. Their focus on disclosed expressions gives viewers a key into what is otherwise out of context. 
Stephanie Brooks, Sylvia Plath's Underlinings in
Virginia Woolf's
The Waves series–2009


Stephanie Brooks' series Sylvia Plath's Underlinings in Virginia Woolf's The Waves was striking to me because of the transparency revealed in their conception. Brooks' does have a way to make their meaning more opaque, however. Underlining certainly conveys a personal importance to the reader, but these intimate moments could be ones of confusion, or unresolved places to return to in her reading. In another sense, taking these words out of their original context largely reduces their meaning; even if the intent is to seek out the source material, it comes at the cost of delayed understanding. 

Catherine Wagner, Beloved, Toni Morrison–2011
Bethany Collins, What good is science fiction to black people?–2016

Gallery 2A was very quiet and the majority of the works require close inspection, such as Wagner's pigment print and Collins' text-driven pastel. Beside the stir of excitement in taking a print from a large stack display, the room was very pensive, especially due to the monumental series by Jan Bervin. Easy on the eye and deceptively complex, these works also embed a language of their own, likening themselves to a Larry Poons color field painting. The craft in this case, though, is to another level. They were easily the most compelling works in the show for me, partially because I cannot fathom the entire process in textile-making. The scale of these works obviously took years of labor, indicated by the label.


(from my initial notes touring the galleries: quiet images, even in the video installations. A quote from one of the videos–"I think that when I write I am dead." This comes from Carrie Schneider's recordings of women reading sections from books by their favorite authors.)

still from Dawn Roe's The Sunshire Bores / The Daylights–2016
Dawn Roe's installation video and recording greets viewers as they enter University Galleries, and also transitions the space nicely when traversing across rooms. A sing-song voice intones these two phrases over and over again, droning on as the video cuts scenes in a matter of seconds. This video signals our auditory sense in a different way from the previous room and in a way prepares an awareness of our other senses. 

I was especially intrigued by the women represented that were authoresses and activists from parts of Latin America. This portion of the show was much more vibrant than others even though there was a temptation to exoticize what was unfamiliar. Simmons' installation was not only an overwhelming stimulant for me, but it created a sort of semi-translucence, such as a panel screen, for the rest of the room. I think that gallery 1A was tastefully sectioned for the video installations that shared a wall. The orientation of these few pieces really kept the space open for some of the more traditional-sized hung paintings and prints. 

The section of the show in 1A 
partial view of Xaviera Simmons Blue–2016

Sabina Ott, more naughty in a spectacle–2015
One of the better walls of the show featured a painting from 1979 next to prints made this year. Both sets depicted women reading, relating the literature of the show as a timeless endeavor. The two prints in fact correlated with the video installation around the corner and was part of a larger series to document women reading their favorite portions of books. The surreal features the poet Mistral reading one of her poems, which was then reprinted onto the placard itself. This was an important point in bringing clarity through curatorial decisions about the works. This image and its information is emblematic for me of the process involved in experiencing the signaling of the show.

Placard for one temporary wall in gallery 1A

Cecilia Vicuña, Gabriel Mistral (desnuda con pitahayas y
mangos / with cactus-fruit and mangoes)
–1979 and
Carrie Schneider's chromogenic prints made in 2016

Fascinating interviews, but I am not sure I understood what this project was really getting at. The intricacy of the artist's motivation made for a dense yet emotionally-charged documentary. I ended up being most intrigued by visuals like this one that seemed out of place.
Still from Lisa Tan's HD video from 2013 entitled Sunsets