July 9–16, 1998

art

The Sun'll Cross 17th Street Tomorrow…

Watching the weather at Schmidt/Dean.

by Robin Rice

Richard Torchia: Live Projections

US: A Summer Show

Schmidt/Dean Gallery

1636 Walnut St., through July 18, 546-7212

		Richard Torchia's Plume (1996), Live projection of illuminated feather

Richard Torchia's most dramatic projection at Schmidt/Dean on Walnut looks like a variation of a piece in his series begun last summer at Eastern State Penitentiary (Torchia's wing of installations has been continued through this summer to Oct. 31). Stardust (Watching the Speed of the Earth Turning) uses a telescope and mirror to project the image of the sun and the sky onto a wall in the darkened gallery. As it traverses the narrow urban canyon of 17th Street, the sun becomes visible inside the building at about 1:30 p.m. and, when not obscured by clouds, remains visible as an ellipse of brilliant light until just before 3.

The transit, as represented on the wall, is a vertical descent. It is not nearly as interesting when the sky is cloudless, and it's invisible when the solar disk is obscured by weather. To best appreciate Stardust, visit the gallery at the right times on a clear day with a good supply of small fast-moving clouds. The show closes soon, so when such a day arrives, take advantage of it.

One might complain that an artwork so dependent on the whims of nature is frustrating, but it is just this combination in nature of predictability (the motion of the sun) and serendipity (the weather) which the work celebrates. A 17th-century Japanese scholar might build a circular moon-viewing window in his house just to admire the moon on special occasions. Torchia's optical device similarly frames and focuses our appreciation of weather, light, atmosphere and vision. The Japanese party assembled to watch the autumn moon might compose poems inspired by the occasion. Likewise, it would be nice to sit at a little table in a dark cool room, drink something and quietly watch the compressed sun image slip in and out of clouds, which one moment recall the bruised heaviness of Constable's; minutes later, Friedrich's cool limpidity; and, in yet another guise, the ebullient confections of Tiepolo.

		Steven Baris' The Unreliable Surface #4 (1997), oil on plexiglass

Stardust draws attention to dust's ability to make a beam of light visible by reflecting it. In the same room, Limelight is a projection through a sealed box filled with moving dust. The images of particles, visually reminiscent of the "floaters" everyone occasionally experiences in the visual field, are barely discernible on a translucent screen. This delicate work is a little too subtle for me, though it nicely echoes Torchia's interest in dust as an ever-present component of the atmosphere. In his description of the work, the artist describes dust as "circles of confusion." Considering that dust is a common metaphor for human life, "circles of confusion" is a notion which deserves more than one artful incarnation.

Choir is a wall-mounted box which multiplies and projects the inverted image of a candle flame onto the ground-glass surface of a metal box (fabricated by Jennie Shanker). The little wedges burning in unison are outshone by the larger Stardust projection, but this self-contained work would be a delightful night light. The title Choir may refer to the multiplicity of images dancing to the same "tune," but the work also reminds me of candles burning in front of religious images: a continuous choir of praise.

Plume, sited in a small closet, is a projection of a white feather, a particularly effective choice for projection. Its slender barbs are agitated by the heat of the light, so the enlarged image (about 2 feet high) is in constant motion. Graceful undulations move tiny structures in and out of focus emphasizing the dimensional character of the object.

The real-time existence of these luminous phenomena is a key element of their enjoyment. By using simple technology, Torchia risks parlor trick insipidity. Yet he avoids that pitfall through a rigorous thought process. When, like Limelight, a work seems weak, it is usually because concept has overreached the perceptual paradigm, or, at any rate, surpassed Torchia's technical realization (not an unusual problem for artists; it just looks different with this type of work).

Also at Schmidt/Dean, US is a group show of the work of five men. With the exception of Brooke Moyer's fiberglass Vort Pull, the pieces are on the small side and even the wall-mounted Vort Pull isn't large. The translucent, surfboard-like work is hollow with two funnel-shaped projections/ depressions which weave through the minimal form interestingly. A pale drippy grey stain takes the industrial edge off this symmetrical object.

Imi Hwangbo's two works are composed of silicone rubber mounted on steel rods. The rosy-red rubber is reminiscent of those inflated balls we used to have in grade school and of flesh itself, a flushed, tortured sort of flesh. Last Swallow is a hanging stomach-like bag with a pair of ovoid, somewhat testicular hollows depending from its base. It is suspended from a metal loop. A small irregular glop of clear silicone attaching the bag to the loop is a minor but distracting technical weakness in this work, which intends to contrast the cold hardness of steel with the soft stretchy rubber. It is still striking and ominously sexual. We know the rubber will continue to stretch as long as it hangs, adding a metaphorical suspense to the literal one. Hwangbo's Soft Martyr is not suspended but impaled: a humanoid headless, armless torso in a foetal curl, skewered on a metal rod like a shish kebab. The rubber figure's back is modeled man-like, but the "legs" and "feet" are simplified pinches. Though the work could have several interpretations (something relating to abortion, for example), it seems essentially sexual.

Kevin Finklea is showing several of his wall-mounted minimal wood objects, smoothly painted in mostly neutral colors. This time they struck me as game pieces, like the little wooden (back in the old days) houses and hotels in Monopoly. Titles like Furlong #5 might support that theory.

Louis Brawley is showing two photographs of the sides of high-rise buildings. The grid of windows in both narrows as it stretches upward. The perimeter of each print blurs to white and it is edged -not framed—in white laminate, making Brawley's works objects with decorated surfaces, rather than little "windows" opening on or enclosing a view. I particularly liked Orange Brick with Green Frames for its strong color.

Steven Baris is showing two paintings on Plexiglas—my favorite works in the US show. Like Brawley's photographs, Baris' paintings are thick and unframed slabs. Baris further utilizes the depth of the Plexiglas to refract ambient light, a key element in the puzzle-like layers of color. Baris always leaves bits of the surface clear of pigment. The Reticulated Ground #3 is mostly cinnabar and black, but there's a slight shift to darker values at the bottom of the patterned field. Shell Game #1 has a fresh Monet-like palette incorporating granulated green and violet. Both works suggest patterning in the natural world. They are particularly suitable partners for Torchia's works because, like his works, they respond to the play of light.