I just want to say one word to you - just one word. 'Plastics.'"
Mike Nichols groundbreaking 1967 film, starring Dustin Hoffman as "The Graduate" used this unforgettable line to lampoon a distasteful consumer culture. The word, given tremendous significance, became the punch line to an implied joke, and a metaphor for shallowness, bad-taste and disposability. My Webster's first definition of "plastic" is "formative, creative"; initially the word suggested nothing worse than a certain type of flexible molecular structure; Somewhere, along the way, choked by too much packaging, broken toys, and increasingly shoddy goods, "plastic" picked up some serious emotional baggage, becoming synonymous with "artificial" and "cheap."
35” x 30” x 7”, at LIMN Gallery,
San Francisco
Christine Duval, director of Limn Gallery in San Francisco, was intrigued by the idea of considering plastic, a material which most people consider as an annoyance, and relatively useless, and discovering ways in which in can become beautiful or important. "Beyond Plastic" relates sculptural and wall-mounted works by their inclusion of synthetic materials, specifically vinyl, rubber, Plexiglas, packing tape, balloons, and other substances that fall under the general category. The show is immediately engaging; the works on view clearly possessing all the colorful appeal of the sparkly, pristinely packaged consumer goods which they reference.
Connie Harris and Julia Latané combine flexible plastic films, borrowed from the world of interior decorating, with fiber and/or wire, glitter, sewing/knitting and other elements to create dynamic and engaging objects. Harris's "Copper/Mahogany" and "Graphite/Silver" both suggest, in their coiled tufts of wire, the Brillo scrubbing pads immortalized in Warhol's boxes. Glistening meshes of looped wire fold and nest, enigmatically sealed in long plastic slipcover cases. The kitschy cases, like those which preserved the upholstery of suburban furniture from unsightly mishaps, lend the constructions an edgy humor. They are mounted on Lucite shelves atop thick slabs of wood, completely encrusted in glitter, which function as paintings. "Sugar," a group of eight glittering cubes on the floor, in candy-colored hues, looks good enough to eat.
Sprouting from the floor nearby, Julia Latané's installation "Tube Lichen" is formed by an irregularly spaced grouping of truncated cones - dull, beige exteriors reveal slick, yet cushy interiors in sky blue, or a deeper turquoise shade flecked with glitter. Each element is topped by a grouping of furry red orbs, seemingly hybrids of Star Trek's tribbles and clown-hat pompons. Her vinyl, wall-mounted "Blue Lichen Panel" uses the same blue material for a ground, with biomorphic shapes quilted on, and punctuated by vaguely floral yellow extrusions, which seem a bit like deflated basketballs. Her "Blue Pearl Tree Scars" hang poised, expectantly, on the wall by the entrance.
Much of the work on view draws energy from its kinship with domestic objects or activities, cooking and sewing, living room or bath; initially this may seem comfortingly familiar. Ultimately, the materials are so totally subverted that the experience becomes surreal - and we may enjoy the absurdity of experiencing kitschy, "low-brow" elements as highly refined art. In Harris's "St. Ives," for example, glitter, plastic and yarn transcend their dubious origins to combine in an elegantly composed work of almost breathtaking beauty.
