LoVid, Stuffed Digital Glitches, and the “Handmade Abstract” at BRIC

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Handmade Abstract” brings abstraction as an artistic concept into the physical realm in this group show at BRIC. In this exhibition, 13 artists use a range of materials from photography to sculpture to video, along with a fair amount of textile, to embrace the abstract in unexpectedly tangible ways. In contrast to the legacy of abstraction in art as transcendent or pure, the dense exhibition includes work that is intricate, colorful, and sensory. All the works evidence the hand that made them and evoke the senses.

Installation view of "Handmade Abstract" exhibition at BRIC featuring works by LoVid

Installation view of “Handmade Abstract” exhibition at BRIC featuring works by LoVid

Case in point: a wall of works by LoVid, a pair of artists (Tali Hinkis, Kyle Lapidus) who draw a parallel between digital editing and sewing. One large screen and two iPads display what seem like colorful “glitches”–the point where computer programs come apart at the seams and go buggy on you. Analog video recordings are edited into single-channel pieces that then become the basis for images used to create patterned fabric. From this fabric, LoVid creates stuffed figurines that hang like taxidermied animals from pegs on the wall, creating digital art that is awkward instead of glossy, whose shapes are uneven and bulging rather than geometric.

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Although all the artists in this exhibition are engaged with making the abstract tactile, LoVid renders the cold realm of technology more intimate, human, and fallible. While in the videos the “hand” doing the editing is necessarily unseen, these stuffed objects provide the opposite–showing the hand stitch by stitch and thus recalling time and labor. Hinkis says in an interview with curator Jenny Gerow that this DIY, handmade aesthetic feels both more human and more true to the artists’ experience of technology: “That is our narrative of media art, the era of glitch and handmade analog mess ups.”

Installation view of "Handmade Abstract" exhibition at BRIC featuring Michelle Forsyth's photographic prints with sewn tape (above) and Pedestal Components (2014) (below)

Installation view of “Handmade Abstract” exhibition at BRIC featuring Michelle Forsyth’s photographic prints with sewn tape (above) and Pedestal Components (below)

Handmade Abstract” is curated by Elizabeth Ferrer and Jenny Gerow and features the work of Katie Bell, Maria Chavez, Michelle Forsyth, Carl E. Hazlewood, LoVid, Marisa Manso, Lael Marshall, Christian Maychack, Leeza Meksin, Liz Nielsen, Courtney Puckett, Mary Schwab, and Lizzie Scott.

Check it out while it’s still up–now through Sunday, October 25 at BRIC in Fort Greene, Brooklyn.

Installation view of "Handmade Abstract" exhibition at BRIC featuring work by Marisa Manso (floor L) and Katie Bell's Blind Driver installation (upper R corner)

Installation view of “Handmade Abstract” exhibition at BRIC featuring Marisa Manso’s sculpture with light (center L) and Katie Bell’s Blind Driver installation (upper corner)

 

Chungk, Beep, Crack!:Christian Marclay at Paula Cooper

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Imagine that you are in a room so dark you can’t see your own feet, much less the other bodies around you. The word “POW” bursts on the wall and repeats across the wall surface, continuing around the room as fast as you can turn your head. “CRACK” appears in colorful lettering 3-feet high across the middle of one wall until it splits down the center to reveal “CRACK” in a different comic book font, which ‘cracks’ to reveal “KRACK” in bright outlined letters. This continues like Russian nesting dolls, but you can’t keep your eyes on it because the letter “M” has started replicating around the edge of the floor. You mentally hum in time. Columns of text shoot down across the walls at a diagonal, while out of the corner of your eye you notice a different word pattern jumping to life. You turn. The words are multiplying so much that the room is getting significantly brighter in the light of their projection.

Up at Paula Cooper Gallery through the end of the week, Christian Marclay’s Surround Sounds (2014-15) is a new video work that consists of “animated onomatopoeias”–that is, Marclay animates the noise words from comic books to mimic the actions that they signify. The video is synchronized onto the four  walls of the windowless room in an immersive viewing experience that is constantly pulling your attention from one wall to another. Interestingly these words come to life only by the hum of equipment–there is no audio being played. Yet the visual onslaught of the sound words is so overwhelming, I hardly noticed the silence when I was in the gallery this weekend.

Pacing has always kept Marclay’s meta-film artworks (e.g. Telephone, Clock) compulsively watchable, and that’s certainly true here, where words move with the swiftness of a carnival ride. The subject matter is markedly different. Other works spliced film clips together to create a new film about film and the act of watching. Here, video animation of comic book effects muddles the visual and aural senses. If a work like Clock caused you to become aware of time passing as you watched, Surround Sounds strung me along for its almost 14-minutes of word glut and then some, without me being overly aware it had started over and happily entranced in the “WHIRR” and “CLICK.” The exhibition “Christian Marclay: Surround Sounds” is up at Paula Cooper Gallery through October 17. Be forewarned that it’s a fast ride, and watching may cause motion-sickness.

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The Stettheimer Dollhouse & Duchamp’s Little Known Miniature

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A dollhouse and Marcel Duchamp. Not exactly two words you expect to have a strong relationship.

But that would be incorrect, I was amazed to discover recently, when I came across the Stettheimer Dollhouse at the Museum of the City of New York. Peering through the glass that now encloses it, I saw a dollhouse taken to new, opulent heights with 16 rooms of elaborate themed decoration in a miniature two-story mansion that speaks of upper-crust 1930s New York. No detail was too small: tiny pieces of Limoges porcelain, carefully fashioned window drapes and swag, elaborate wall murals and mirrored doors as well as chandelier after chandelier. In fact, it is a replica of the Stettheimer sisters’ home created by Carrie Stettheimer. If the decor seems fantastic, it is also surprisingly mimetic; the Stettheimer home was also decorated in such a whimsical way. Stettheimer reproduced in detail period furniture, trim, and light fixtures and painted tiny wallpaper like the Noah’s Ark scene in the children’s nursery. She began it in 1916 and worked on it through the 1930s, her constant and singular artistic pursuit.

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Beyond the care taken with this dollhouse, and its panache, is another surprise. Stettheimer asked some of the artists who frequented their home to create tiny copies of their paintings and sculptures for the dollhouse. The Stettheimer home was a hub of cultural activity as the sisters entertained a bohemian milieu, as evidenced by the dollhouse’s ballroom. The ballroom boasts an art collection to rival full-sized collections with works by Alexander Archipenko, George Bellows, Gaston Lachaise, and Louis Bouche. The stunner is a 2 x 3-inch rendition of Nude Descending a Staircase contributed by Marcel Duchamp. Lachaise did a miniature alabaster nude statue that appear outside the ballroom doors alongside William Zorach’s tiny bronze Mother and Child. The collection is displayed in carefully composed environment where the striped floor matches the gilded chairs and fireplace, complete with tiny logs waiting to be lit.

Carrie Stettheimer. Photographed on October 8, 1932 by Carl Van Vechten.

Carrie Stettheimer, photographed on October 8, 1932 by Carl Van Vechten.

 

Florine Stettheimer is known as the artist of the family: her original paintings are now prominently hung in the Metropolitan Museum of Art’s modern wing, where they stick out as separate from the larger Modernist conversation. Florine’s work also appears in the dollhouse: she contributed a miniature portrait of Carrie (it hangs in Carrie’s favorite bedroom of the dollhouse). Yet her sister Carrie’s dollhouse can be considered a unique work of art in its own right, a fantasy world perhaps all the more enticing because of its roots in reality. Carrie Stettheimer died in 1944 and, in 1945, her surviving sister Ettie gave it to the Museum of the City of New York, so that now Carrie’s life work is now on permanent view at the Museum of the City of New York.

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Relative size of my thumb and Duchamp’s miniature Nude Descending a Staircase (bottom center).

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William Zorach’s bronze Mother and Child (L), and Guston Lachaise’s alabaster nude (R).