Nick van Woert - The Last Show at L and M Arts

I just got back from checking out the last show at L & M Arts in Venice. As if to reflect my mood about it, the fog rolled in just as I walked in the doors to see Labyrinth, the sculptures of Nick van Woert. It was bittersweet, as I've spent a lot of time in this gallery, learning, appreciating and reflecting ... most often on foggy days like this.

In the West Gallery, van Woert has a series of wall sculptures modeled after mappae mundi - the medieval maps of Europe. Bronze casts of basic tools, like hammers and arrowheads give it all a feeling of the history of man, and the ways in which we got to today.

In the big main piece, Not Yet Titled (2013), van Woert made up his own personal history. According to the press release, "This large sculptural lexicon is the sum of the artist's influences and ideologies. It includes casts of relevant books, childhood toys, peace pipes, and other meaningful objects that, together, helped to amass his character." Cool.

The work builds "a link between seemingly antiquated notions of construction, industrialism, and sustainability amidst shifting societal values and consumer demands.

The West Gallery is all serious and tangible feeling, heavy with permanence.

In contrast, the East Gallery houses the title piece, Labyrinth (2013), a maze of plexiglass boxes that contain, well, junk. Plastic, man-made junk. AstroTurf, pinatas, aquarium rocks, a hot dog, dirt, cat litter, fabric, what have you. This gets a little into the territory of "What is art? Anyone could do that!" To which John Waters famously said, "Then you should." Right on.

Where the West Gallery feels all museum-like and hallowed, the East Gallery feels ephemeral and cheap.

Interestingly, the press release - and thus, van Woert, acknowledges exactly that, saying his sculptures "are ammunition for a material revolution that rebels against the dividing qualifiers of 'fake' and 'authentic'. Selected for individual traits, rather than an ability to replicate the favored materials of antiquity, van Woert engages the inherent aesthetics, palettes, and textures of each material he chooses ... His work challenges us to become increasingly aware of the artificial concoctions that populate our contemporary habitat." In other words, art is everywhere.

I loved these moments of solitude, just me and the creativity and ideas of the artists shown at L & M Arts, thinking and understanding. The Gallery closes its doors for good on August 23rd. They will be fondly thought of and most assuredly missed. Thank you for the beautiful time you spent with us here in Venice. And thank goodness art IS everywhere here.

Neo Povera at L & M Arts

I finally got over to see the Neo Povera show at L & M Arts, in what I sadly heard will be there second to last show. The Venice gallery is closing for good this fall, in what will be a big loss to the local art community. I'm not sure why (usually it's a money thing), but I know for sure that they will be missed.

Before you even go inside (or even if you don't), you can enjoy Andy Ralph's sculpture, Manifold Destiny, 2013, which is a bunch of artfully placed chain-link fences.

The show is based on the Arte Povera movement of the late 1960's, which translates literally to "Poor Art". The Artists all worked with accessible materials in an attempt to blur the lines between "elite art and the colletive experience.

The press release explains it well, with an excerpt from the manifesto by Germano Celant, outlining the original movement, Notes For A Guerrilla War:

"Over there is a complex art, over here a poor art, committed to contingency, to events, to the non-historical, to the present ... to an anthropological viewpoint, to the 'real man', and to the hope (in fact now the certainty) of being able to shake entirely free of every visual discourse that presents itself as univocal and consistent. Consistency is a dogma that has to be transgressed, and the univocal belongs to the individual and not to 'his' images and products."

In other, less lofty (everyday) words, it's art made from everyday stuff, that anyone can get, and create with in their own vision.

So you get Maya Lin's take on a Manhattan phone book.

You get Karla Black's cellophane sculpture, Spared The Sight, 2012.

A piece that looks like just a regular old Igloo by Patrick Meagher.

Virginia Overton's Untitled (Sandbag), 2013 ... made from yep, a sandbag.

None of the works were labeled (which always bugs me), so I'll just share some with you that I liked, but don't know the titles or artists of, and didn't want to keep asking ...

I come from a railroad family, so I liked the repurposed railroad tie sculpture back outside by Marianne Vitale.

All in all, it reminded me a bit of the Fluxus movement, where the premise is that everything can be art. Everything can be SEEN as art. And you should go see this very interesting show, while you can. It's on until July 6th, and then there's only one more exhibition at this wonderful space.

Which I guess means we all need to make more art, more accessible, and pick up the big slack that will be left when L & M is gone. Venice is up to the task, as art IS everywhere here.

L & M Arts
660 Venice Blvd.
Venice
Tuesday-Saturday, 10:00am - 5:30pm

Jonathan Wateridge at L & M Arts

After a series of unusually summery January days here in Venice, the clouds returned yesterday, making it a perfect art gallery and reading afternoon. Coincidentally, the newly opened show at L & M Arts is Inter + Vista, new work by London based artist, Jonathan Wateridge ... and it's pretty cloudy too.

In his first exhibition in Los Angeles, Zambia-born Wateridge brings his realist/formalist paintings for us to view ... mostly through a foggy haze.

Once again, I had the galleries all to myself, which felt right as Wateridge's paintings feel a little like you're spying on the subjects ... much like the little kid in Boy On Wall (2012) seems to be doing himself.

You almost feel like you're waiting for the elevator along with the woman in Lift II (2012) ...

... and the man next to her, with that strange, slightly uncomfortable elevator etiquette no one understands.

A simple sidewalk bordered by bright green grass was about the only vivid color used in the entire show, and was a welcome shot of brightness in the grey palette and in the day peeking in from outside.

There is such attention to detail, and the people depicted look plainly real ...

... down to the shine on their hair and the wrinkles around their eyes.

There is a glimpse of the people inside some doors in Glass Doors (2012) (Wateridge's titles are extra literal), but they are obscured by the glass, as the others are by mist. You find yourself wanting to know more about them as a result.

The artist explains in his press release: My hope is that by paring back context and gesture and by heightening the staged simplicity of the environments, narrative and meaning are actually opened up. These paintings cross reference each other both formally and narratively in richer ways than some of the more notionally connected images that I've previously made. So there you have it.

Having just come from my own walk on the beach, it was a fluid extension of my day to enter the East Gallery and feel like I just came from the same walk the ladies on the beach in Fog (2012) were enjoying.

The salty air came inside with me, and the effect of the sky-lit room was altogether calming, and perfect for a day off to one's self.

I can never say enough how grateful I am to have such a crucial venue for art a mere bike's pedal away. I hope the fact that I always have the place to myself when I visit L & M is just great timing on my part, and not that locals aren't getting over and experiencing this treasure for themselves. The crowded openings are always a good time, but I find that I value my solo time with the art even more.

The sun was dappling through the dense clouds as I returned to the realism outside, and I found myself noticing the world's true colors a little bit more than before. Thanks, Art!

Inter + Vista is showing now through March 2, 2013

L & M Arts
660 Venice Boulevard
Venice
Tues - Sat, 10:00a - 5:30p

L and M Arts Tips Hat To Ray Bradbury

As much of Venice is changing, all the time, it's always good to tip one's hat to what came before ... like the current exhibition at L and M Arts that is honoring Ray Bradbury and the fact that this crucial gallery is located on the very site that Bradbury lived and wrote The Martian Chronicles within. Wow.

The show For The Martian Chronicles features a cavalcade of artists with a thin line connecting them via the idea of martians, space and Bradbury - or the appreciation thereof.

The West Gallery is currently featuring an All Star Jam of artists that Venice knows, loves or houses, with a wink or a bow to Mr. Bradbury, knowing or not.

The show is big, from a Ruscha (Hold For A Minute I'm No Martian)  (carrot juice on paper!) ...

 ... to a Houseago mask seen here a few months ago ...

... to for real original galley proofs of The Martian Chronicles from the desk of Ray Bradbury himself.

 I love the fact that you can enter the quiet rooms of the gallery and be transported to Mars ... through words, through art, through your own open mind.

 
In fact, truth be told, my favorite part of this entire new show was the new busted out ceiling sky-light in the East Gallery, with the ever-changing sky as the constant exhibit. Life is but a dream.

But dreams are interpreted while mortal by artists, musicians, philosophers, psychics, actors... Story tellers, whatever the medium, really. And we're all just trying to make a little sense of it.

Not that this show will help with that, but at least you can take a break from REAL sense-making, and just absorb the possibilities. And many they are.

If Price, Bell, Purifoy, Asher, Sachs, etal, combined can't give you a moment's escape, then I'm not sure how to help.  On a rainy afternoon, with the specter of Bradbury hovering over it all ... it made total sense that we've recently made contact with Mars, and the whole Universe is out there for the art making. Every idea is exciting!

The East Gallery at L and M is showing Monica Majoli in her first hometown of Los Angeles show. Her stuff is dark. Sexual. Yearning. Almost a little voyeuristic in that the women portrayed feel very vulnerable, stark and wanting.

Oil paintings on black mirror represent boudoir moments of uncertainty and the rawness of desire, reciprocated or not.

The press release for the show was extra intense as to the meaning behind all the dark and drama of the Majoli works, but in my head I kept hearing a plaintive lady singer-songwriter's wails of unrequited or disturbed love behind it all, that I'm not sure I'd seek out for a playlist (if I knew how to manage that smack). It felt like a bummer.

But the day didn't, because it's so great that I/We get to see major scene art scenes a mere bike pedal away in the heart of Venice. Where it's meant to be all about art. Where L & M is such a gift. Where we can tend to forget about our connection to one another and our individual expression. Unless it's planted smack dab in front of us, and we're open to it.

Let us strive to honor Mr. Bradbury, the artists who honor him, and ourselves who dream and create and aim for the stars (planets), whatever that means ... Now. And always.

The sky isn't EVEN the limit.

L and M Arts
660 Venice Blvd.
Venice
Both shows, now through January 5th, 2013

Eclispse Quartet/Jenny Holzer Mash Up at L and M Arts

L and M Arts continued hosting their finissage events with an evening of string quartet music by the Eclipse Quartet in the West Gallery, alongside Jenny Holzer's LED screens scrolling her messages in time to the music, to wrap up the exhibition of her The Future Please show.

The Eclipse Quartet performed Different Trains, written by Steve Reich for the Kronos Quartet in 1988. It's a powerful piece of music, as it documents Reich's train travels across the United States as a kid at the same time the trains were transporting human beings toward the camps in Europe during the Holocaust. Not light or easy listening by any means, and its 27 minute length is just about exactly right.

Recorded words accompanied the music, as the LED screen messages blazed across our eyes, so brightly that you sometimes had to close your lids and just listen. It's a lot to take in.

The first movement was "America Before The War", very upbeat, hopeful, maybe even a little proud and boastful, with phrases like "the crack train from New York" (with special * in the program that "crack" USED to mean "Best" back in the day - ha) and "one of the fastest trains" being repeated.

The second movement was "Europe During The War" and had a much scarier, doom feeling, with a more frenetic pace and a lot more ominous screeching. The words on the front set up of screens all had to do with Baghdad and redacted data and more modern war-related problems. Thus, the repetition of the music and the recorded words and the information on the screens surrounded you with the truth that ALL war is senseless and we're just repeating ourselves in different times in different parts of the world. All the time. At least that's what I took from it.

(I was there with my friend Jessy, who is a professional violinist. She thought that the piece was powerful in that "The out of tune, weird pace was annoying, but it was inspiring at the same time. And I appreciate that it was short." Ha!)

This time the words being repeated were "They were loaded with people" and "They tattooed a number on our arm" and "Flames going up to the sky - it was smoking", with air raid signals going off. Uggghh. You felt helpless and thwarted watching and listening, like "Will we EVER learn?!"

Then the third movement, "After The War" came along and it was hopeful again, and somewhat relieved. The music became more melodic than chaotic, more upbeat and happy, with the excitement you get upon arrival somewhere and the train whistles that go along with that. Though the music was more light-hearted and lovely, it was also wistful, with phrases like "but today, they're all gone" and "There was one girl, who had a beautiful voice" and "And when she stopped singing they said, 'More, more' and they applauded."

And so did we when the music then ended abruptly.

We applauded and stood to leave, and right as I was about to walk out the door, I saw a phrase go by on the sign that said, "Your consolation is that this might be the truth."

I'm not so sure I feel consoled, but I always prefer the truth.

Thanks and CHEERS to L and M for continuing to provide us with insightful, educational, and inspirational moments. What a treasure we have right in the middle of our neighborhood.

L & M Arts
660 South Venice Blvd.
Venice