Modernist all-over compositions invoke everything from creation to string theory in the works on view in “Creating Matter: The Prints of Mildred Thompson.” Despite the small space, the exhibition is successful in suggesting process. Three black-and-white prints and one large color print, all from the 1999 “Caversham” series, allow one to watch the artist work through different ways of composing dynamic force from an undulating beam of energy and its offshoots. A series of five 1989 etchings entitled “The First Mystery,” “The Second Mystery,” etc., create different scenes of an orbital sun and horizon line, stable aspects in otherwise chaotic, mottled space. Is this a deluge, a nuclear blast, or the morning after the apocalypse pictured? These works get at the heart of Thompson’s mystery—how to apply a centuries-old technique and new scientific possibilities to an eternal subject: the substance of the world.
The Second Mystery, 1989, etching
Fifteen of the eighteen prints on view are back-and-white, forcefully conveying the frenetic energy of the compositions as well as the energy of the artist’s incisions. Rather than feeling hemmed in by the hectic lines and scratches, an elegant use of white space in the compositions allows the paper to stand forth like a peaceful absence of matter, especially in works like Mulbris, “Death and Orgasm” series (1991) whose upper third is unmarked except by a graceful curved indention in the paper. Almost unexpectedly, I found the exhibition of the deceased American artist’s late prints tucked into a small room off the main Greek and Roman art galleries, offering a modern counter-point to the permanent collection.
Mulbris, “Death and Orgasm” Series, 1991, etching
On view at the Michael C. Carlos Museum at Emory University, Atlanta through May 17.
Ari Richter’s work is both more abject and more playful. His large installation featured a string a dreaded hair that spelled out “remainder” in looping cursive, while under it his Dust Buddies gathered. The dust buddies are made from animal tchochkes that Richter then covers with animal hair, making them amorphously more and yet less distinguishable as animals. Next to this installation is Wolfdong (not pictured), an oversized penis carefully implanted with thousands of tiny dog hairs that stick straight out, with all the disquieting and Surreal attention to detail of a Robert Gober sculpture. I had the chance to hear the artist speak about his work, and he sources his materials from himself, his friends, family, and their pets. The personal connection to the hair source reminds how hair is strangely a part of our body, yet one that we willingly detach from ourselves.