You say coincidence and I say serendipity. Either way, despite titles referring to the broad notion of passage, one would be hard pressed to find two more disparate art exhibitions than Journeys, at the Dunedin Fine Art Center, and CAM's "The Field's Edge: Africa, Diaspora, Lens" (reviewed in the Planet Nov. 28).
Vast differences aside, both shows have at their heart a fascinating assortment of private and public pilgrimages, which when we think about it, probably constitutes the bedrock of human experience.
"The Field's Edge" is a far more focused show, posing specific situations and dilemmas relating to ethnicity; its images of political and social upheaval command the viewer's attention. By contrast, Journeys, a small, ambitious exhibition, lends itself to a more intimate investigation of universal themes as seen through a variety of narratives: the metaphorical, scientific, religious, historical and/or mythological, plus life-cycle events. That's a pretty tall order.
At its best, the Dunedin show, curated by David Shankweiler, FAC's curator of exhibitions, introduces some well-chosen art, mostly recent, or from the last quarter of the 20th century. Approximately 15 artists are represented, including a few collected pieces from unknown artisans and one from the early 1500s. A bonanza of media and styles extend from 1897 photogravures of the moon, to late 20th century documentary photography of views snapped from trains; there are also oils, egg tempera and mixed media, drawing and sculpture. Again, if you're thinking that this is a lot of territory to cover, you're right. Ordinarily I'd suggest that thinning out the crowded 1,100-square-foot gallery and reducing the time span of the pieces would do wonders.
But Shankweiler's rationale for the wide range of art and time periods reflects the 3,000-member, family-oriented art center, in operation since 1974, and typically luring more than 50,000 visitors a year. I was surprised to learn that they employ 75 art instructors, 35 full time. With such a mandate for comprehensive adult and children's educational art experiences, exhibitions are essentially supplements to the total picture. This means that a show like Journeys, with substantial and thought-provoking adult-centered work, also includes didactic and child-centered art objects.
Given this set of circumstances, separating some of the more concrete objects — old children's toys, a hanging toddler's rocking device and even the space helmet in a glass case — might do wonders to enhance the overall impact. There's something intrusive about a Disney toy related to movement, albeit decades-old, mounted in a glass wall case with other old wooden toys. It interrupts the meditative tone in the gallery as well as James Skvarch's beautiful etchings on either side.
That said, along with some hand-picked literary wall text, Skankweiler (with an English lit background), offers some compelling juxtapositions that include emotional and psychological journeys, particularly those associated with birth and death.
Birth, literally the initial passage we all share, is the subject of "Journey" (1991), the monumental 6-by-8-foot graphite self-portrait by Orlando's Unmarid "Tony" Eitherong (it's accompanied by William Blake's poem "Infant Sorrow" from his "Songs of Experience"). The award-winning Thai-born artist, long familiar to Bay area outdoor festival crowds for mixed-media themes of war and peace, also won Gasparilla's Best in Show award several years ago. There's no question that this powerful realistic rendering, part of a large group of portraits commissioned from Eitherong by a Chicago collector, is a stunner. If you haven't seen it before, it's well worth the trip to Dunedin.
Eitherong, like hordes of other artists, works from the projected image, generally photographic negatives. In this instance, his style recalls monumental figures posed dead center in the manner of an Alfred Leslie or a Chuck Close. Dressed only in jeans, he poses himself in an obvious cruciform configuration against a black brushed-oil background, grasping his infant twin sons, one in each arm.
As if emphasizing spirituality and power, his body fills the entire vertical space, his head turned upward in a pose of profound exultation, his veins nearly bursting through skin. Mouth wide open, he's either screaming silently in joyous ecstasy or engaged in transcendent spiritual communion.
But this is no common man; he's more of a modern-day biblical Jacob or Solomon. Either way, the infants' birth "journey" is complete while the father's is just beginning. Enclosing the trio, are "raining nails" (the artist's words), an all-over pattern which is as much a design element as it is content. Eitherong views the nails in concrete terms; they represent joining or bonding.
With only one main gallery available, "Journey," along with several other works, is installed in the busy atrium hallway. Effective as it is here, had it been hung as the centerpiece on the back gallery wall (assuming it would fit vertically), the piece would have served as a dynamite focal point.
Inside the gallery, in the far back corner, Denis Gaston's oil on canvas, "Is Death Not a Dying" (2001), could be seen as the bookend for the ecstatic Eitherong drawing, both in terms of content and formal elements. Gaston's thick-textured oil on canvas, with his signature linear forms, illustrates a Buddhist story of a young woman's arduous journey through an ocean of sorrow. At her destination she discovers she's actually gone nowhere; it's all been a figment of her own mind.
Several other artists also use boat/ship images as spiritual or metaphorical narrative. Timothy Tyler's interest in tribal and exotic cultures led to "Purong Elang Septembre," in the artist's words, a "soul boat." Beautifully crafted of wood and copper, it carries 400 miniature porcelain figures representing 9/11's approximately 4,000 dead. Skvarch's outstanding etchings depict the kind of intricate, fanciful interiors we can easily disappear into. His "Among the Giants" resembles a Spielberg-esque movie set with ships stored and hanging from the high-domed ceiling.
As we pass through the exhibition, more concrete examples of journey are shown side by side with those inviting viewer introspection: travel diaries and sketches, a surreal depiction of nature evolving over time, a fanciful cerebral landscape, painted figures charged with inner light and spirituality, and a sculpted contemplative head.
Other highlights include Robert Hodgell's pedestaled "Trojan Horse"; Jack Nichelson's mixed-media social commentary —"The Last Tramp Reliquary: This Town is Hostile" — and the late Michael Mick's mystical, egg-shaped "Star Journey Pot," with astronomical directional signals reminding us of Tom Murray's paintings. Harriet Bell's "Riding to China" combines figurative folk art and minimalism.
Shankweiler drew on historical themes with an American Indian mural and painting. Christopher Still's oil sketch of Ponce de Leon is especially interesting because it gives us an opportunity to observe the process of a prominent Tarpon Springs artist known for realistic paintings and murals.
My recent visit to the Dunedin Fine Art Center led me past their once-a-month outdoor concert held on idyllic park-like grounds. With a group of bagpipers playing, and a gaggle of Canadian geese in the pond, the notion of journey hits home — less cerebral than the art, but all very enjoyable indeed.
P.S. Here's a head's up on a really "good thing." Why not drop into Blake High School's fifth annual Art Auction on Dec. 13 at 6 p.m. Blake is Tampa's fine arts magnet school and this is great way to support the city's next generation of artists. All proceeds go to the Blake Visual Art Department. Good food and great art!
Art critic Adrienne M. Golub can be reached by e-mail at randagolub@aol.com.
This article appears in Dec 11-17, 2002.