SASHA PINCUS
Special to The Leader
Two weeks ago, our charming little Cathy and Jesse Marion Art Gallery in the Rockefeller Arts Center was awash with sharp design and crisp wit. On May 1 at 7 p.m., “Con-Artists” transformed it into the pulsing lair of those out-there senior Artists (with a capital A). Coming from a more traditional art background herself, you’ll have to forgive this author for any bias shown throughout the article.
Though the first senior show was reportedly lovely — clean and classy, with a precisely calculated flow — the second spoke in the true language of what’s so consistently generalized as art: Look what happened; isn’t this weird; let me tell you a story; no let me, no me; here’s a snack.
To start, picture the same gentle lighting and evenly vibrant chatter as any other gallery night. Picture glass doors propped wide open and people milling about dressed in everything, from their look-at-me best to jeans and sneakers. Now picture that as it weaves through Nick LaTona’s weird, rib-like wax sculptures; twists around the thrillingly bizarre handmade set for Frankie Post’s featured animation “Loved;” and rests gently on the altar crafted by Cecelia Price in memory of her mother.
This was no ordinary show.
In a 12-minute stop-motion animation, in which the characters are all goats, Josh Saville gave new life to the familiar tale of “Hansel and Gretel.” Around the corner, Zoey Rich charmed the pants off of everyone as her 2D character, Dwagon, navigated the frightful 3D halls of some nightmarish dungeon in order to save his friend. Gabrielle Cavallaro grabbed the collective eyeballs of the evening with her complimentary films, “Reaction” and “Extraction” — never before has human skin been so eerily engaging — while Kyra Slawski’s “Styx” stood quietly by, waiting for viewers to notice that a small rabbit just snuck out his window and accidentally found himself at death’s feet.
This collection of films alone is reason enough to swing by at your earliest convenience, but in truth, it covers only half of what this batch of seniors has to offer. In addition, there are also Marisa Bruno’s huge, stunning portraits and Stephanie Burns’ outrageous posters. When asked by another reporter, “Why do you create?” Burns held comically fierce eye contact for the space of a heartbeat before silently turning away. In short, ponder her work for yourself.
To the left of the posters is located “Is This Cheating?” — Lauren Truby’s thoughtful and engaging series of paintings. Though gallery-goers are often guilty of breezing past pieces and not taking the time to read accompanying plaques or statements, she highly recommends viewers take a pause here. The only things better than skillfully-rendered pieces (or collections of pieces) are the stories and thoughts upon which the visuals are built. Go to the gallery; read the plaques; interpret the paintings.
Last but certainly not least, reflect on Bobby Sader’s photography. Perhaps you’re a photo-nut, in which case you should go see the show. Or perhaps you’re among those who consider it to to be “just like … pushing a button,” in which case you should absolutely go see this show.
Aligned in an orderly row, Sader’s black-and-whites sit with apparent ease among the sea of paintings, films and sculptures. They are high contrast, and of no exaggerated size. On a tripod at the end of the line sits a large wooden camera, as old-fashioned looking as they come, complete with a black drape under which the photographer ducks while shooting. It could easily be imagined by the tracks of old railway construction sites. Foolishly, I found myself thinking, Wow, what an old camera; is it there to juxtapose his digital work?
The answer is no — a thousand times no. If you’re reading this, I want you to say out loud to yourself, (come on, at least whisper it) “no.”
Because the truth of the matter is that Sader’s work isn’t digital; it’s manual. And it was taken on the very camera that stands before you. And — wait for it — it’s not an old camera. It’s a very new one — one that Sader himself built.