Far more than is the case with museum and gallery exhibitions, InSITE97 exposes the
demands that artworks make on the contexts where they're presented; not just in physical
objective terms, but in subjective terms as well. These demands have to recognized and
addressed.
Just because a work can fit into a space -- or can be made to fit into it -- doesn't
automatically mean it's a good idea to put it there.
Temptation can also arise when a particular work is so compelling that a space simply must
be found for it, so it can lend its strength to the exhibition as a whole.
Neither of these scenarios produce ideal results; and good works suffer as a result.
At the Santa Fe Depot, in a place that's always in a hurry, Deborah Small
has created a space where people need to slow down if they're going to appreciate the rich
experience the artist offers in "Rowing in Eden."
The work occupies a street-facing room formerly used for baggage claim. Now, it's bedecked
with flowers, branches, and reeds; most of these herbs and medicinals, many of them grown
by the artist in northern San Diego County. Music, sounds from nature, and the voices of
women drift through the space, telling of the role of plants in the lives of women in
other times and other cultures; and of the persecution as "witches" this
sometimes brought.
The work's depth and complexity, however, stand in stark contrast to its environment at
the train depot. Too many people pass right by it, closed-off to distractions (however
inviting they might be) and swept along by the tides of desire to get somewhere else.
While this energy is particularly intense at a train depot, few environments in "the
real world" are entirely free from it.
In "the art world," by contrast, a leisurely pace and an openness to new
experience (i.e. curiosity) are part of what people willingly bring to the door. Because
it requires this quality of attention, a work like "Rowing in Eden" makes more
sense in art's world than on the street.
Even so, "Rowing in Eden" is powerful work, one of the most thoroughly
researched and meticulously crafted in all of InSITE97. It's offering of a too rare
glimpse into the feminine experience of the spiritual and the mystical is effective and
important.
Ruben Ortiz Torres' "Alien Toy UCO (Unidentified Cruising Object)"
pre-dates the start-up of InSITE 97, so it's clear that a place was made for it, rather
than it being made for a place.
To accommodate InSITE's programmatic expectations, a slide projector was incorporated into
the form to project images against the wall. Only by the narrowest of threads does this
bind the work to its context and result in a "sitework."
The work doesn't need this treatment, however, nor does it need the mock Border Patrol
emblems on its doors. The message these emblems pound out is inferable enough from the
work's evident roots in lowrider culture, a distinctly urban Chicano pop form.
Torres' creation partially alienates itself from this tradition by the fact that you can't
get in and cruise the boulevard, a key part of the lowrider experience. Interestingly,
this makes the work all the more like "high art," rather than the "folk
art" of the lowrider, because one of art's essential characteristics is its utter
inutility.
Minus its distractions, and even with them, "Alien Toy ..." is a superb piece of
sculpture, comparable in attitude and expression to the best works of Mark DiSuvero.
It's more than strong enough to stand on its own; which it should, as art pure and simple.
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