A R T L E T T E R
The Timely Magazine of Art
|#28||<!>previous/ next>!> Artletter index||May 1, 1996|
Letter: Hawkins and Galaska at West End Gallery Dear Louise: Writing a scathing, mean spirited review (in AL#27) under a pseudonym is gutless and chickenshit. Are you afraid that I won't like you any more if you say those things under your real name? Relax, Louise, I know who you are and I never liked you very much anyway. How much time did you spend actually looking at my work? I suspect that you gave it little more than a cursory glance; and yes, Louise, with two small children, a demanding teaching job, and a big house to keep, I am half asleep. What's your excuse?- Mary Hawkins Letter: Hawkins and Galaska at West End Gallery To Louise Cranston: I am all for being anonymous and I am all for art criticism, but the combination of the two is like hitting and running. Please expose yourself, Louise.- Kathleen Packlick Olmec World at the MFAH 6/9 The polished jade jaguar masks glisten like droplets of water on jungle leaves. Gazing past their impassive faces into the translucent depths of the stone it is easy to believe that they incorporate something from a spiritual realm which transcends normal experience. -B.D. Annette Wilzig at New Gallery 5/18 Wilzig consistently forces disparate objects into visually coherent, if not deep packages. Her meticulous command of assemblage must be commended in a genre rife with lazy hackwork. Occasionally Wilzig produces something funny, like the Holy Shit book, or the Nice Guy but the jokes are one-liners, distanced and anesthetized by the sense of the antique which deprives artworks made of found objects of their bite.-B.D. Marcus Adams at Lawndale 5/25 Amorphous pseudopods like bloated mud dwelling fish or bad thoughts extrude from the head of the eyeless clown. Their melancholic chorus of shapeless, hollow mouths reiterate the clown's groaning expression. Their tiny, ill-placed eyes see for him. Thin gray paint, awkward modeling and grotesque gigantism give the piece a school parade float silliness which somewhat mitigates the heavyhanded imagery. The tentacle nearest the front is best; a hint of a nose anthropomorphizes it enough for empathy. Dim lights make it seem like something which grew in the basement during vacation and now has to be cleaned out. -B.D. Address letters to: Bill Davenport, 801 Tulane St., Houston TX 77007 Mail subscriptions $15/year. Look for Artletter 29 on May 15.