March 22-April 27, 2002
Organized by: Aaron Baker
Artists include: Steven Criqui, LA, CA; Curtis Fairman, Las Vegas, NV; James Gobel, LA, CA; Krista Hoefle, South Bend, IN; Lisa Mihm, Santa Barbara, CA; Sean Slattery, Las Vegas, NV; Almond Zigmund, NY, NY

Almost Heaven...

Curator's Statement

This exhibit introduces 7 artists whose works link to the real world and play with our conception of it. Materials ranging from large scale photographs to plastic bowls wink at methods of traditional representation and how its depiction continues to be informed by the language of abstraction, -- a pesky, shape-shifting thing that refuses to stay still long enough for us to know what to do with it.

Steven Criqui





Curtis Fairman


Romijn
plastic, stainless steel, silicone, hardware 13x13x10"


Eloi
plastic, stainless steel, silicone, hardware 13x13x10"


Lexx
plastic, stainless steel, hardware 10x10x8"

The concept of Almost Heaven has changed considerably since I first set out to organize it. I wanted to mount some argument for a new conception of abstraction that exists beyond mid- 20th century formalism (or its latter day second coming), beyond clever deconstruction, end-game antics, parody, or even lighthearted hedonism. Admittedly, I did so not because I believed that a show examining abstraction is anything new, but because I personally have an inexhaustible interest in abstraction as a pesky, shape-shifting thing that refuses to stay still long enough for us to know what to do with it.

What I have found, not surprisingly, is that the works of these seven artists look entirely different than they did months ago. Despite whatever assertions I was going to make about how they fit together, these artists changed not only the feel but also the focus of this show. I now look at this group of sophisticated objects, most of which have made their way from Las Vegas, Los Angeles, and New York, and see a robust show about the slippery nature of representation. Despite all these works speaking the language of abstraction - with some being a little chattier than others - they all link themselves to the real world (playing with our conception of it) through a fresh kind of devotional pragmatism.

James Gobel?s 2-D constructions look like slick retro-Modern paintings at first glance; however, their blocky forms are actually the edges of objects that have been largely cropped out of the picture plane. In "Sofa and Painting," we see only the bottom of a painting, the top of the sofa beneath it, and a large expanse of wall between the two. Even more surprising, his medium is not paint at all but felt and yarn (creating a sensory connection with the furniture he depicts) deftly crafted into a nearly seamless surface. In "Hug" Gobel provides us a glimpse of characters who likely inhabit this interior. He renders a touching domestic interaction in which two unglamorous men embrace. The closest figure dons a flannel shirt, the perpendicular lines and colors of which are made from inlaid yarn and fabric, attached to the support with the care of a jeweler. It is this same careful manner of collage, along with the warmth of his materials that makes each work seem like an homage to comfort and intimacy.

Sean Slattery?s blobby creations also conjure up the mid-20th century at first, invoking drippy abstractions from the 1950s. Closer inspection, though, reveals that although their surfaces are made of poured paint applied in rhythmic circles, their shaped foam supports and the loopy patterns on top of them combine to give these works surprising anthropomorphic qualities. These paintings seem to have crawled off the canvas to inhabit the walls like Jungian fungi. We imagine that they have sprouted facial features and limbs, and each seems to have a quasi-personality. Slattery does not use a computer in their manufacture, yet these objects have a linear, repetitive appeal that leaves us wondering if these paintings had their start as Photoshop scribbles that may have later been cut from larger images.

Steve Criqui purports to depict unlikely sections of Los Angeles and Las Vegas landscapes in his photographically based works. After photographing the scene, however, Criqui then manipulates it on his computer, taking out this and that and arranging things to suit his tastes. He then makes a print that is mounted to canvas and further complicates matters by painting over it, adding decidedly formal shapes and swabs of color, effectively fusing the photographic image and the paint he applies, and leaving us unsure of what remains. Criqui questions the accuracy of surface appearances, and also comments on an individual?s personal relationship with the landscape around him.

Curtis Fairman makes globular confabulations out of plastic bowls, dog toys, stove burner rings and other objects. They boast a creative moxie that transcends their pedestrian materials and blends them into complex, concentric patterns. Yet they glisten with the slick sheen of mass-production, and we cannot escape the desire to see them as vaguely familiar machines, the functions of which we have merely forgotten. They resemble everything from Star Trek props that may have not made the cut to oversized air fresheners. Perhaps most of all, these objects seem like automobiles boiled down to one simple element. Despite our best efforts, though, these curious orbs refuse to let us pin them down.

Lisa Mihm paints romantic landscapes with a loose, confident hand that makes us realize how much we have missed paintings made without the use of masking tape. We soon see how appropriate her technique is to her subjects ? ephemeral scenes that suggest nostalgia while retaining a touch of danger and excitement. In one painting, flashes of thickly applied paint seem to zip down a large, diagonal passage of brown that has been interrupted with vertical skeins of black. Only after really looking do we see that these are professional motorcycle racers flying down a hillside past a thicket of trees. Mihm?s paintings unravel slowly, setting their scenes and telling their stories little by little.

Krista Hoefle?s hilarious and touching sculptures are made primarily from crude industrial materials. From a distance they look like stacks of forgotten building supplies on which toxic runoff has accrued. These little sculptures have legs, though, (amputated from doll house furniture), creamy heads complete with eyes, and shiny stages on which to stand. Together they look like a chorus line of mutants from the deep recesses of Home Depot, an unlikely team of hopefuls that wish desperately for a taste of the limelight. These are strangely beautiful works, rich with commentary about how we reconcile beauty and the man- made world.

Almond Zigmund?s digital photographs and vinyl corner sculptures are brimming with speed. She arranges her flashy prints sequentially and they read as stills from a Pixar feature about futuristic road trips. For sure, these works give a nod to Pattern and Decoration through their undeniable flatness and flower imagery. However, each piece begins with a photograph of an actual strip of highway as its starting point. Zigmund reduces all elements to simple blocks of color and plays them off of seemingly random pattern. This process makes the convergence point in each image, along with the dropped shadows she adds, the only references of the roads she depicts. What?s left behind looks like the landscape at warp speed, seeming to blur together from our vantage point in some unknown vehicle.

Almost Heaven presents seven young artists making exciting work. More than anything, though, it suggests the importance of allegory and narrative in emerging art. The difference between what we see here and what we have seen before, I think, is the way in which each object is grounded firmly in that artist?s eccentric interactions with the world. These works do not traffic in established narratives or reflect perspectives on shared myths as much as they glorify the richness and truth of personal experience.

Aaron Baker