CURIOSITIES OF THE CURIO
works by Sandow Birk, Hadiya Finley, Moira Hahn, Laurie Hogin, Clint Imboden, Sant Khalsa, Denise Kraemer, David Ligare, Thomas McGovern, Carolie Parker, Tuan Phan, Carol Shaw-Sutton, Susan Sironi, Fred Stonehouse, Einar and Jamex de la Torre, Christopher Xavier, Peter Zokosky
March 13 - April 24, 2010
Arts Walk Reception: Saturday, April 10, 6-10pm
By definition, “curios” are rare or bizarre decorative objects – curiosities that hold some novel or sentimental value to the owner – and one cursory glance around your dwelling or office, and you will no doubt find some of these kitschy oddities. Even if you prefer a manicured, “showplace” home, it’s a safe bet that some funky little item is tucked away in your dresser or boxed up in the attic because while curios usually have no real value, we just can’t seem to throw them away.
In Curiosities of the Curio, we celebrate these personal mementos, the waggish family heirlooms that no family member might actually want to claim, and the tchotchkes made by anonymous hands, picked up at estate sales, thrift stores and quirky boutiques. The works in the show are not actual curios but inspired by them – which, in essence, now makes them curios by their very nature.
Laurie Hogin’s exceptional petite oil portraits of grumpy, spotted bunnies and duplicitous pink and green monkey-people playing the drums on human skulls evoke not only curiosity, but might even unearth a few repressed childhood midnight jitters, and Moira Hahn’s exquisite, finely-lined Japanese prints starring rabbit and parrot-headed geishas instead of porcelain-skinned beauties are an exceptional find for any lover of the orient – or anthropomorphic sex symbols.
Peter Zokosky’s oil portrait of a decidedly regal carrot man makes a fine addition to the family tree – just hang him next to grandma’s sepia-toned wedding photo – and David Ligare’s dual still lifes of a bowl of potato chips and buttery cakes prove that the edible pedestal is not reserved for fruit and wine alone. Fred Stonehouse’s string of masked men and cat women in mixed media on wax paper are an appealing group of oddballs, who seem to beckon us to release them from the captivity of their frames and allow them to creep and prowl through our living rooms.
Chris Xavier’s mini paintings on cigarette rolling papers (sketched of his fellow public transit system riders) are delicate trinkets that should already be considered highly-prized collectables, and Sandow Birk’s ink on mylar Crumbian drawings of a double baby buggy and lonely drum kit take chapters from Dante’s Inferno and make light of that raucous passage through Hell.
Hadiya Finley’s bronze sculptures are organic and raw, much like artifacts from some glorious, earthy society that prizes the communion of man and nature above complicated, isolating technology, and Sant Khalsa’s collection of poplar wood sculptures embedded with gelatin silver transparencies of the naked branches and trunks of burned trees are hauntingly beautiful.
Clint Imboden goes Dr. Strangelove with his globe sitting atop a sleek, black bomb (remove the northern hemisphere and peek inside to get a clever prick of disturbia) and his skewered-by-spear Earth fittingly turns Atlas on his ear: no more cradling of Gaia, just slice and dice conquering. Carolie Parker’s strips of vintage plaster maps twist and turn the earth out of shape and time, transforming our seemingly fixed world into a one of tumbling fluidity.
Denise Kraemer’s soft monoprint and stitching abstractions will lull you into light, airy worlds, and her glass fused paper doll cut out assemblages of little girls on clay tablets (one of a clique in red and blue, the other an orange lassie lost in contemplation sitting on the edge of a dock) are nostalgic and charming. In the same symbolic vein, Mayan imagery is exploded into the modern age in Einar and Jamex de la Torre’s glyphs that morph stoic, ancient iconography with the glittery pop of our commercial state run amok.
Thomas McGovern’s series of black and white laser prints of ballerina and wrestler appendages on plates would make festive dinner conversation if used to serve up a host’s meal to society notables, and Tuan Phan’s mixed media sculptures of human torsos sprouting tubular tendrils and filaments are eerie and wistful as they reach out to caress us.
Carol Shaw-Sutton’s fibrous and billowy conch shell both illuminates and transcends nature’s delicate process of building her own glorious objet d’art. Likewise, Susan Sironi’s meticulously altered vintage books – with each individual page clipped and snipped to create a grand mélange of color and imagery – are astounding in their beauty and precision.
Each of these wondrous creations speaks to our sense of individualism, our thirst for things that are both unique and exclusive. And in our desire to fashion ourselves out of all that is beautiful and rare, curios serve as our accoutrements, revealing both our outward personalities and our intimate passions.
Stacy Davies
Pomona, CA 2010
March 13 - April 24, 2010
Arts Walk Reception: Saturday, April 10, 6-10pm
By definition, “curios” are rare or bizarre decorative objects – curiosities that hold some novel or sentimental value to the owner – and one cursory glance around your dwelling or office, and you will no doubt find some of these kitschy oddities. Even if you prefer a manicured, “showplace” home, it’s a safe bet that some funky little item is tucked away in your dresser or boxed up in the attic because while curios usually have no real value, we just can’t seem to throw them away.
In Curiosities of the Curio, we celebrate these personal mementos, the waggish family heirlooms that no family member might actually want to claim, and the tchotchkes made by anonymous hands, picked up at estate sales, thrift stores and quirky boutiques. The works in the show are not actual curios but inspired by them – which, in essence, now makes them curios by their very nature.
Laurie Hogin’s exceptional petite oil portraits of grumpy, spotted bunnies and duplicitous pink and green monkey-people playing the drums on human skulls evoke not only curiosity, but might even unearth a few repressed childhood midnight jitters, and Moira Hahn’s exquisite, finely-lined Japanese prints starring rabbit and parrot-headed geishas instead of porcelain-skinned beauties are an exceptional find for any lover of the orient – or anthropomorphic sex symbols.
Peter Zokosky’s oil portrait of a decidedly regal carrot man makes a fine addition to the family tree – just hang him next to grandma’s sepia-toned wedding photo – and David Ligare’s dual still lifes of a bowl of potato chips and buttery cakes prove that the edible pedestal is not reserved for fruit and wine alone. Fred Stonehouse’s string of masked men and cat women in mixed media on wax paper are an appealing group of oddballs, who seem to beckon us to release them from the captivity of their frames and allow them to creep and prowl through our living rooms.
Chris Xavier’s mini paintings on cigarette rolling papers (sketched of his fellow public transit system riders) are delicate trinkets that should already be considered highly-prized collectables, and Sandow Birk’s ink on mylar Crumbian drawings of a double baby buggy and lonely drum kit take chapters from Dante’s Inferno and make light of that raucous passage through Hell.
Hadiya Finley’s bronze sculptures are organic and raw, much like artifacts from some glorious, earthy society that prizes the communion of man and nature above complicated, isolating technology, and Sant Khalsa’s collection of poplar wood sculptures embedded with gelatin silver transparencies of the naked branches and trunks of burned trees are hauntingly beautiful.
Clint Imboden goes Dr. Strangelove with his globe sitting atop a sleek, black bomb (remove the northern hemisphere and peek inside to get a clever prick of disturbia) and his skewered-by-spear Earth fittingly turns Atlas on his ear: no more cradling of Gaia, just slice and dice conquering. Carolie Parker’s strips of vintage plaster maps twist and turn the earth out of shape and time, transforming our seemingly fixed world into a one of tumbling fluidity.
Denise Kraemer’s soft monoprint and stitching abstractions will lull you into light, airy worlds, and her glass fused paper doll cut out assemblages of little girls on clay tablets (one of a clique in red and blue, the other an orange lassie lost in contemplation sitting on the edge of a dock) are nostalgic and charming. In the same symbolic vein, Mayan imagery is exploded into the modern age in Einar and Jamex de la Torre’s glyphs that morph stoic, ancient iconography with the glittery pop of our commercial state run amok.
Thomas McGovern’s series of black and white laser prints of ballerina and wrestler appendages on plates would make festive dinner conversation if used to serve up a host’s meal to society notables, and Tuan Phan’s mixed media sculptures of human torsos sprouting tubular tendrils and filaments are eerie and wistful as they reach out to caress us.
Carol Shaw-Sutton’s fibrous and billowy conch shell both illuminates and transcends nature’s delicate process of building her own glorious objet d’art. Likewise, Susan Sironi’s meticulously altered vintage books – with each individual page clipped and snipped to create a grand mélange of color and imagery – are astounding in their beauty and precision.
Each of these wondrous creations speaks to our sense of individualism, our thirst for things that are both unique and exclusive. And in our desire to fashion ourselves out of all that is beautiful and rare, curios serve as our accoutrements, revealing both our outward personalities and our intimate passions.
Stacy Davies
Pomona, CA 2010
