Installation, that persistent art-world darling, has remained distant from the tradition-oriented Museum of Fine Arts in St. Pete. With Mystic Chords: Illuminated Photographs by Connie Sullivan, the museum has inched a little closer toward displaying artwork that encompasses an extended space. Consisting of two related series — all photo-based wall-hung light boxes, accompanied by wall text, the museum has finally demonstrated an affinity for installation.
Though only an affinity, we wonder whether this massive exhibition (35 works) represents the museum's shift into the periphery of cutting-edge art. Admittedly a tenuous move, perhaps it's as far or as daring as MFA is willing to go. Still, this eye-catching, crowd-pleasing show provides a welcome jolt to a small, quality museum.
The latter of Mystic Chords' two series, Alchemy of Entrance-ment, filling the first two galleries, opens next year in New York's Chelsea, a.k.a. avant-garde territory. In fact, the Ohio artist's work bears little resemblance to a typical Big Apple outre installation. Thankfully, there are no off-putting conceptual assemblages. No forays into self-absorbed identity exploration. No crochet-stitched schmattas posturing as nostalgic media.
Sullivan's version of cutting-edge includes a process she calls "lasergrams." It's photography — a potent force in the art scene hierarchy — wed to reflective metal parts. Inevitably, this series may be viewed as part of the so-called post-9/11 art world revival of spirituality and art. On the contrary — in her case (and for legions of other artists) the implied spirituality culminates a far longer journey.
Using lasers to illuminate, the artist takes seven photographs (some time-lapsed) of her own collaged images. With each photo she moves the tripod slightly. Mimicking the way our eyes work, this movement produces a three-dimensional-like finished image (which is not evident in reproductions). She transforms the multiple images into a single composite transparency that's placed within the light box. We perceive movement as we pass layered and lit images; taken as a whole the phenomenon is mesmerizing.
Sullivan, a National Endowment for the Arts recipient with an impressive national and international resume, understands the nature of art. Her fine-tuned aesthetic sensibility converts light boxes into far more than the slick advertising receptacles she first observed in airports.
Alchemy of Entrancement features the photographer's communion with found-object media (i.e., nails or coiled and geometric metal parts) that she photographed outside. Assembled and lit in the dark-room, they become ethereal, blob-like, celestial compositions or, suspended in darkness, coagulating, cell-like, surreal masses acquiring a life of their own. In one untitled work (all are maddeningly "untitled"), it's fascinating how metal and light emulate paint as in Abstract Expressionist Mark Tobey's "white-lines" or "white-writing."
Yet I was even more impressed by Sullivan's earlier series, "Light Environments," which began in 1988 and continued through 1997. These photographed collages of a "dark side" rely purely on visual impact rather than simulated movement. Exquisitely toned in blacks, whites and all shades between, her luxuriantly textured images (reminding me of Max Ernst's paintings) spew a range of content.
Are they subliminal political statements without the political scream? Or commentary on the human condition? Or both? More certain is the industrial residue or machine parts transformed into wondrous anthropomorphic creatures: a rabbit imprisoned by slender steel rods and bordered by a row of stars; stones imbued with tactile power.
Taken together, Sullivan's divergent light boxes represent a stunning transformation in her visual thinking and practice. Her exhibition, another coup for the burgeoning St. Pete art scene, is well worth the trip. Bring the kids — they'll love it.
Adrienne M. Golub can be reached by e-mail at adrienne.golub@weeklyplanet.com.
This article appears in May 22-28, 2002.