You Do Something to Me
2009 ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø Student Exhibition
Juror's Statement - Michael Oatman
As a longtime fan of ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø, its Art Department and the Tang Museum, I am honored
to be the juror for the 2009 Student Exhibition. Now, I have an additional reason
to be pleased – the work of the students. Wanting to be a ruthless juror – I was ready
to whittle things down to about 14 works – I kept being thwarted by some gem in the
corner or a print pulled from a pile. And so, I have opted to present more of the
bounty than I might otherwise have done.
People always want to know what decision-making process I employ when jurying a show.
The long answer is that I'm interested in the concept of the work and how hard it hits me. I look at how craft supports the concept, even
when it is clear that facture (or the process of making) is the concept. I'm looking for things that breathe new life into traditional media
or genres, and how an artist might use technology (remember, applying paint with a
brushy stick is a technology) in such a way that the 'medium' vanishes.
I like works that show a real understanding of scale – this is harder to do than
you might imagine, and it has to do with how the viewer apprehends the idea, not the
thing. Of course, I am also drawn to works that seem to operate on their own terms,
with total disregard for history or the way something is supposed to be done. Everyone is looking to make that thing that is fresh, singular, and yet
we learn a great deal by imitating, borrowing or outright theft. Usually it is seeing
how an artist merges all these factors that attracts me to a work.
But in the end, it really is a gut decision.
I juried the show in about three hours, making a pass where I looked at everything,
eliminated stuff in a second pass and made final selections in the third. There were
a few pieces that I brought back, and some early rejects became the works that rose
to the top. At least one work has been on my mind for a week now.
As new media has sometimes dominated academic arts in recent years, it was exciting
to see so many things made by hand. There were also conceptually solid and technically
rigorous photos and videos (all three video submissions were strong). My favorite
video work, Meredith Pierce's And her thoughts, and her thoughts, and her thoughts! captures and twists a real Thanksgiving memory into something that could be seen
as a David Lynch/Baz Luhrman love child. Thoughts about the 'normative' nature of
your own family experience are yanked apart in Pierce's self-help/finger piano/dollhouse/alt
cabaret.
There were several works in the show that make variously humorous, somber and surprising
translations of iconic or familiar forms. Kallie Day's We Are Our Own Enemy, a floor-bound map of the USA mired in waxy tanks reminds us that we will be tripping
over our own national messes for some time. Nearby lurks Suzanna Okie's Power in a Can, another bit of American culture imported 'round the world and refashioned into a
play gun. Flat-out funny are all prints by Shauna Feinberg, but particularly Sheryl and Steve, not least for the title. Here she takes woodblock printing to a new level of clunkiness
(and I mean that in the best way) by insisting that in her world, everything is made
of wood.
Jessie Moy's Bear and David Mishler's Frank I are occasional commuters to the real world, and I like the humor and cool that pervades
these works. Or is it uncool? Either way, the bear/man and the guy with the big head
stare back at us, occasionally, from the mirror.
The Sick Muse by Julia Cizeski returns us to a world of preciousness, in some hybrid of deco and
quattrocento painting. Here the muse is just hanging out after a few glasses of wine
and TiVoing all day. Equally opulent are the constructions of Melinda Kiefer. As a
collector of many examples of material culture, I can identify with the overflowing
nature of her object assemblies. The double-headed rubber Janus mask may well be an
emblem for artists (at least, those working with collage) – we bring everything from
the world into our studios and lives even as we try to clarify it.
My personal favorite in the show – Trilowheel – doesn't seem to be made at all, just found, in some studio, after it kicked around
for 20 years. This, I think, can be the mark of a really personal work. Tell James
I'd like to buy it, or trade for it. Mary knows how to get in touch. (One of the nice
things about NOT actually being a real curator is that I can write statements like
this, full of holes and written for the artists).
The honorable mention works in this show should get cash prizes too, but to be honest
we just ran out of money. Hana Sackler's three muscular abstract paintings grew on
me because of that menacing angular red form. They would resolve themselves as landscapes
and suddenly fall apart, more verb than noun. Mary Beth Thompson's cassette tape figure
unraveled in my mind when placed into the deck – a twee figure that insists on being
heard. Alexis Herzog's books operate somewhere between sketchbook and deliberate art
book projects. I'm pleased that she wants viewers to thumb through them.
Best in Show went to Jasper Goodrich's massive, witty and light Reflections of a Woodpecker, a work I almost missed, as it was situated outside the gallery. I'm not sure if it
ever made it indoors, but the displacement of the sky into the sides of the log was
both pleasurable and disorienting. I'm usually leery of those large sculptural works
that situate themselves in the landscape and then ignore it – Reflections pushes you back out into the world even as you are peering inside it. It's always
great when something comes along and challenges your own history and stance on things.
Finally, I love student shows because of the surprises and promise they afford. Nothing
is more boring than to go see competent work by someone from whom you have certain
expectations. As my own show opens this same night I'm keeping some thoughts in the
back of my head: What am I doing with my own work, out of habit, that I have accepted,
unchallenged? What did I learn from the ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø students that I will take back into
the studio, and then out into the world?
I think viewers to this show (and hopefully the exhibiting artists themselves) will
be answering questions like this for some time. These works will challenge, amuse
and, occasionally, disturb. Thanks to all who submitted the some 213 works. Congratulations
to the artists for having such a wealth of ideas and compelling physical manifestations;
ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø and Saratoga are lucky to have such makers in their midst.