Mad Bad and Street Legal
Fall, 2006
The current office of Bridge magazine opened its space this spring to a small group show tagged Mad Bad and Street Legal. There is no real basis for the title -- presumably it continues a Chicago gallery tradition of juxtaposing two ideas or statements to simply see what happens. Four artists are shown, and all run the gamut in their approaches to painting and drawing, sometimes navigating erudite literary references while at other times presenting quirky pop-culture references. The resulting show had a collaged, all over the place feel, but not one without many moments of delight.
For instance, David Shannon Harrison makes careful drawings full of literary and personal references. Using cross hatching and repetitive pencil marks, Harrison seemingly builds the drawings up into something, either making muddy compositions or fascinating, fully realized, images. Dr. Faustus and . . . er . . . friend is particularly striking, depicting two figures, one of the famously troubled intellectual and the other presumably either of Mephastophilis or some other hellish beast. The monster is a misty character, maybe an apparition or a loosely manicured bush, but is provocative just the same. Jared Sheldon’s work might be a counterpoint to Harrison’s, presenting a whimsical collection of small to medium sized drawings using collage as well as acrylic and pencil. Loosely structured surrealist visions, they present a sort of Disneyland in spin cycle series of cartoonish motifs. Done mostly in light aqua blues and greens, the works remind one of Matta’s dancing blobs or maybe an unusually upbeat Gorky.
While Harrison and Sheldon present discrete objects, Marshall Preheim installs a meditation on weight, not physical weight but visual and literary weight, through a series of photographs, a wall drawing out of rope, and a lightly stenciled poem. Unfortunately, the poem was rather difficult to read, but two words of great importance do emerge from the wall -- “what weight.” This thought is an axis for the piece. The wall drawing presents a type of weight through a figure recalling Rodin’s brooding Balzac, seemingly crushed under the weight of not only his thoughts but the bulk of his carriage. The photos show extreme close ups of a person holding grapes and a mayfly.
Perhaps the largest delight of the show, however, is being able to take time with a large number of drawings and a few sculptures by Duncan Anderson. I hope to write a longer piece on Anderson’s work, but at the moment, I just want to highly recommend it. The drawings take us through a landscape of emotional states, transporting us not only through popular culture but also down the corridors of history. It is difficult to describe the poetry that plays out in these works. Sometimes, the work is simple and exuberant, a text graphic of the tobacco label “Skoal” with “fuck yeah” next to it. Other times, the work is dazzling and touching. There is always, however, a sense of forbidding comedy to the work. My favorite is a drawing that is just gold glitter and a few lightly traced lines. This is Swarm Reenacting in Homage and Fear the Creation of the Universe, a title loaded with so much at once, a sweeping metaphor of our place in the universe while an expression of childlike wonderment. Yet “fear” lingers over the proceeding. You don’t know why the intimation of “fear” has power, but it changes everything and fits perfectly. Take a close look at Anderson’s despondent Darth Vader, without his helmet and defeated. The title says it all, Lord Vader and His World Falling Apart.