1999
Oregon Biennial
Portland Art Museum 1229 SW Park Ave., 226-2811
Aug. 1-Sept. 19
Museum admission, $4-$7.50
A biennial exhibition is a true "state of the art" survey;
in a perfect world, its art would serve to define the moment.
The 1999 Oregon Biennial doesn't necessarily define the moment
so much as give a broader view of current artistic activity
in Oregon. If, traditionally, there has been an overall Oregon
sensibility, I would say it is craft--that is, an attention
to handwork and the object, whether the discipline be painting,
woodwork or ceramics. Though this leaning can seem at times
provincial, the best work in the show infuses this very tendency
with a conceptual twist.
Curator Kathryn Kanjo served as the sole juror this year,
as she did for the previous biennial. In 1997, the show
was interesting but resembled what is perpetually on display
in the city's more well-known galleries. Some of the usual
suspects (Storm Tharp, Stephen O'Donnell and Tom Cramer)
are in this biennia,l too, though most of them managed to
come up with something surprising and unexpected for the
museum setting.
It is the newcomers, however, who truly shine. Heidi Schwegler's
Mouth Pieces present some of the most arresting works
in the show. Schwegler, a metalsmith by training, presents
an assortment of florid plastic forms in bright confectionery
colors attached to small metal tubes. What at first appears
to be bright, fun-house jewelry becomes lurid and disturbing
when one realizes their oral intentions. All manner of unpleasant
subterranean associations emerge, and the myriad meanings
of the work echo off each other long after you leave.
Similarly, Susan Seubert's bucolic black-and-white photographic
landscapes draw the viewer into scenes of reassuring--but
illusory--comfort. Oregon is ripe with bland, pretty photos
of its bounteous natural landscape. Seubert tweaks the meaning
of these familiar scenes. The series, simply entitled Best
Places to Dump a Body in the Columbia River Gorge, suddenly
introduces an aura of danger. Upon learning that these are
actual sites where murder victims were discovered, the viewer
can't help but scan the landscape looking for clues of nefarious
deeds.
While Schwegler and Seubert slyly and stealthily create
some of the most powerful work in the show, some artists
just try too hard. Eleanor Erskine's Still Life--a
huge, hanging sheet of sausage casings--feels uninspired.
This strategy of using viscera to provoke a gut reaction
has been used many times before. Once its shock value is
gone, the work becomes transparent and dull. Likewise, Hirotsune
Tashima's Game of Life seems overly thought-out;
the busyness of the piece saps its energy. The jokey "Game
of Life" idea again seems like well-trodden ground upon
which nothing new has been placed.
Conceptually, one of the most engaging works is Swallow
Press (x2)'s off-site billboard work and corresponding slide
show. At a location in Southeast Portland, slide projectors
display images on one half of the billboard and text on
the other. An enigmatic image is juxtaposed with a statement,
and the viewer makes a poetic association. Though the billboard
tactic is becoming ever more ubiquitous, it's still refreshing
to see one that reads, "I think of others. (and worry)"
rather than another ad for a fast-food joint. Swallow's
use of billboard art, a device that seems to be on the wane,
picks up a thread that runs throughout the show: Many of
the strategies employed by the artists here seem to be just
on the downward curve of what is current. The struggle to
be "cutting edge" merely for its own sake detracts from
a genuine response to the times and materials, which is
why Schwegler's piece works so well, while Gregory Schmidt's
assemblages feel like an art-school assignment.
Painting is well-represented and healthy. James Thompson's
piquant narrative paintings recall 17th-century Aztec codices
with their linear figures against a neutral ground, while
Molly Vidor's contemplative paintings have a lushness distilled
into a dominant color scheme. Viewing one white Vidor painting
is like staring into a swatch of a Turner canvas or treading
through a snowy field at dawn.
Indifference is probably the worst insult an artist can
receive. It suggests a mediocrity unworthy even of comment.
Whether the viewer is confounded or angry, at least the
work has elicited a response and forced the viewer to engage
with the art work. The 1999 Biennial, happily, doesn't induce
indifference. One cannot walk away without being prodded
and agitated by some of the work. This year's show proves
that Oregon's artists are vibrant and strong. The constant
influx of new talent keeps the currents fresh, while the
best work has digested what is most contemporary and filtered
it through a sense of materials and tradition to create
timely, exciting work.
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Willamette Week | originally
published August 11,
1999
|
