A show by Brian Smith at Moss Galleries delves into 'queer ecology,' while Roopa Vasudevan at Space demonstrates the limits of AI.
We are in a period of transition: summer into fall, outdoor living to indoor introspection and, depending where you sit on the political spectrum, on the cusp of the triumph (or the fall) of American democracy. Increasingly we rely on technology to interpret these moments of transition and proffer theories about what they augur. With that comes both a sense of possibility and a sense of portentous foreboding.
Two shows illustrate a widening gap between what we’ve thought of as art and artmaking and, possibly, where those ideas may be headed. In the former camp is “Brian Smith: The Deep Sea Is a Dark Room” at Moss Galleries in Falmouth. In the latter we have “Artificial Abundance: Roopa Vasudevan” at Space gallery (both through Oct. 11).
ARTIST’S HAND
Smith’s show is ostensibly about something called “queer ecology.” Its meaning is variegated and profound. But two chief tenets of this philosophy are on display here. First, nature offers us lessons that disprove the lie of queerness as “abnormal,” as an aberrance in need of correction. It asks: Might we be unfairly (and inaccurately) applying to natural phenomena the same binaries we find irresistible for their implacable oppositionality when, in truth, “queerness” is reflected throughout nature.
Second: Can we invert the slurs lobbed at LGBTQ+ people simply by breaking them down into their essential naturalness? A fairy is a creature of enchantment and light; a fruit is something sweet, juicy and nutritious… and so on.
Brian Smith, “Lure,” laser etched drawing on glass, glass tile, grout, epoxy, foam, welded steel, hardware. (Image courtesy of Joel Tsui)
At a more elemental level, this — and every piece in the show, for that matter — is about materiality. Here it is copper chain. But Smith also employs glass and marble mosaic tile, grout, colored pencil, steel, epoxy and wood. For this artist, textures are part and parcel of his message for the natural tactility and sensory perception they can summon within us to heighten our experience of them.
So, for instance, “There Are Millions of Suns Left” is a colored-pencil drawing of a world on fire, while at its left, below the surface of the ocean, two mermen swim away from the natural calamity. Green marble tiles frame the composition. Color and pencil marks convey the elements of the narrative — flames, billowing clouds of smoke, the blue depths of the ocean as escape and salvation—and marble (it’s hardness and coolness juxtaposed with the delicacy required to manipulate thin shavings of it). Marble both contains the scene and feels fragile and precious.
Many works also contain homoerotic content. But the exquisiteness of their rendering and Smith’s evocative mix of materials gives them a fantastical, mythical beauty that transcends the frank subject matter. “Locket” is a copper chain-covered scallops shell half opened to reveal a glass mosaic of two men tenderly kissing; “Lovers in the Darkroom” depicts gay anal sex between mermen in a watery depth so murky that one must squint to see what is happening; “Late Nights Wondering” is an erotic fantasy involving a man and a conch shell, which suggests something about to happen without being explicit.
Brian Smith, “Locket,” steel, epoxy, glass, grout, copper plated chain. (Image courtesy of Joel Tsui)
Time and again you will be astonished at the materiality of the artworks as well as their making, both of which are graspable and reveal process and the ingredients that comprise the works themselves. It is art, in other words, that offers us many points of access: materiality, visible construction, representation, tactility, sensuality, fantasy (mythical and sexual).