In Strange Grip, the current show at Nudashank, gallerists Seth Adelsberger and Alex Ebstein move away from their recent trend of thematic shows, instead inviting three artists to create site-specific environments where their work could be experienced in a more complete way. The results are captivating—sometimes even overwhelming—in their visual richness and demonstrate just how much context and visual relationships impact our understanding and appreciation of singular works of art. Here Philadelphia artist Bonnie Brenda Scott greets us in the foyer and Andrew Liang and John Bohl, both MICA grads and incredibly productive artists familiar to us from the Baltimore scene, commandeer opposite ends of a large white cube gallery and transform its space magically.
Andrew fills a dark galaxy with stars and new constellations that glow brilliantly in their ever nighttime sky. A few evoke the classical mythology of astronomy—bears and a horse or unicorn— and he has even noted that in conceiving this amazing project he was “mesmerized by Albrecht Dürer,” but most of these highly original images seem to emerge from popular culture, lightened with Andrew’s usual humor and imagination. A grimacing frankfurter struggles to crunch a sit-up from his comfortable bun; a grinning cactus dances across the sky; a grieving carrot reclines woefully; a twisting worm emerges from a cup, replacing its straw, and then uses a straw to drink from his own miniature cup; a jubilant snowman stands aloft on an ice cream cone, waving his stick arms. Circular stars twinkle everywhere, as though they too might suddenly coalesce into yet another charming image. Each star and constellation is machine stitched, white on black fabric, and stuffed, but these are definitely not toys suitable for children!
The edge of this crazy galaxy is bounded by a mural that takes advantage of an existing vertical element in the space. Painted in the flat areas of bright color we have come to associate with Andrew’s work, it represents two legs of a walking figure, with a black-and white plush cat—modeled on his beloved pet Bling Bling—clinging for dear life to this human companion, his long claws leaving bloody marks as he sinks closer to the floor.
The new tact with materials in Andrew’s installation (the components are sewn, not painted) was inspired by several artist friends and crafts people who encouraged Andrew to sew—among them, Jenny Strunge, who is best known as the Maker of Cotton Monsters.
Across the room, John Bohl takes a very different but equally ambitious direction with his new work—paintings, drawings, prints, and sculpture arranged in ways that make the whole so much more than the sum of its already beautiful parts.
The principal wall is covered with red and blue screen prints, a maze of elegant lines that recall the paintings of Brice Marden, abstract but with a fluidity that allies them to the natural world.
What I like best about John’s work is that I can find these resonances of art history—echoes of Pop or Surrealism or even maybe ancient art—but that it is so of the moment, this moment in 2011 in which we are all living. From time to time, a figure or a landscape will coalesce among the abstract images, then recede into a beautiful pattern. The layering of John’s images and indeed of his entire installation reflects for me the new and rapid way in which see, think, and communicate inspired by the connectivity and access of the internet. Here at Nudashank, in this actual “digital” scene, there is wallpaper on our enormous screen; the works are arranged like “see all” photographs mounted on Facebook; and the imagery reflects the fresh graphic design of a new generation. Despite these everyday associations, John, a digital native, has found a way to make art that is both beautiful and original.
You still have a chance to catch Strange Grip at its closing reception TONIGHT, October 27 from 6 to 9 p.m. Don’t miss it!
Filed in: Nudashank.
Doreen Bolger is always on the move because she can’t stop seeing, supporting, and writing about the arts in and around Baltimore City. Her lengthy love affair for the arts began in Long Island when her father, an executive in the textile industry, brought home breathtaking fabrics every night from the heart of the garment district. 