By Show and Tell
By Bree Davies
By Bree Davies
By Cory Casciato
By Emilie Johnson
By Robin Edwards
By Bree Davis
By Josiah M. Hesse
Every accomplished artist works in series. They create groups of pieces in which each subsequent creation is visually and conceptually built on the previous one. Sometimes artists will work with a specific visual language for their entire careers, repeating the same ideas over and over again. Here's a good example: The Denver Art Museum owns the 172nd version of Robert Motherwell's "Elegy to the Spanish Republic"!
Since repetition is so common in artistic practice, it's an obvious theme on which to structure an art show, which is exactly what Simon Zalkind, the director of the Singer Gallery of the Mizel Center for Arts and Culture, has done in Repeat Offenders: Serial Works by Colorado Artists. "This show allowed me to include pieces by artists I'd been interested in for a long time but hadn't been able to include in a show," Zalkind says, "and to include artists whose work I hadn't seen in a long time, and I wanted to see what they were up to.
"It's also a safe context for me to take a couple of risks," he adds, referring to his inclusion of emerging artists hung cheek by jowl with established ones. "If there is someone who is not up to my usual standards, there are lots of people who are."
Zalkind's right: There are a couple of artists whose work doesn't stand up, but I'd say it's a great show anyway, with more than enough to recommend it. In fact, it could be compared favorably to Dianne Vanderlip's scene Colorado/sin Colorado at the DAM, which is a nice companion exhibit, since both are focused on local contemporary art. Zalkind's Repeat Offenders is more modest than scene Colorado, but not by much: The Singer show has nearly thirty different artists in it, while the DAM's has just over forty.
When I first received the notice for Repeat Offenders, I was shocked to see how many artists were included, and I expected to find a cluttered atmosphere reminiscent of an over-the-top extravaganza of the co-op scene type. Of course, we're talking about Zalkind, so I shouldn't have been concerned. "I'm amazed that it all fit," Zalkind says. "I was very frightened when we unwrapped everything. This motley assortment of unrelated things -- and, I thought, too many of them. But somehow this room accommodates anything I want to do." Looking at this show and recalling all the wonderful ones he's done at the Singer over the years, there's no way to argue with him about it.
The DAM's Vanderlip and Zalkind share a great strength in their ability to assemble disparate material into a coherent exhibit, but it's also their greatest weakness. So while this show is a successful visual spectacle, whatever content there is in it -- and there's quite a bit -- is hard to see. In Zalkind's case, however, he really had no choice -- not if he wanted to include as many artists as he did. Some of them are represented only by a pair of related pieces, while others have at least six on display.
Zalkind's installation is brilliant as usual. He alternated vertical stacks with horizontal groupings and interspersed them with grids. The works of each artist are clearly separated from those by others, allowing viewers to contemplate individual series. Zalkind says the established artists were there to provide the show with a firm foundation, and it's safe to say that they do a darned good job of it. Considering all the ready comparisons to the DAM show, it's no surprise to find that there's actual crossover between the two exhibits in terms of the artists who were featured. Five artists have work in both scene Colorado and Repeat Offenders: Stephen Batura, Andrea Modica, Jeff Starr, Sushe Felix and Roland Bernier.
Batura starts off Repeat Offenders with two easel-sized paintings from his "Flood" series, which are hung just inside the front door. Like his better-known train-wreck paintings, these flood pictures are based on historic photos and have been done with casein. On the topic of historic photos, Modica's studies of American Indian women set in the landscape, hung immediately next to the Baturas, look like they could date from the turn of the last century, especially given their picturesque qualities.
Across the room on a stand are pieces from Starr's "Inclusions" series, a group of Sculpy clay figures encased in acrylic. The figures are surrealistic, while the acrylic cubes in toned-up Rat Pack colors give them a more contemporary edge. Though Starr has long been known chiefly for his paintings, like the one now at the DAM, he has increasingly turned to sculpture in recent years.
Further into the show but on the same wall as the Baturas and Modicas is a quartet of wonderful, if tiny, pieces by Felix. Done in paint applied to paper instead of her usual board, they look like studies for prints. I'd never seen work by Felix of this sort before, so it was a revelation.