Interior Views
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Rob Anderson. Apt, 2009. Oil on boad, 48x31.5in. Photo Courtesy of the Sandra Small Gallery.
Rob Anderson. Apt, 2009. Oil on boad, 48x31.5in. Photo Courtesy of the Sandra Small Gallery.
While one might assume that the dictionary definition for 'interior' would be simply 'inside,' it is not. In the Merriam-Webster Collegiate Dictionary, it is "lying, or functioning within the limiting boundaries," followed by "belonging to mental or spiritual life" and then "belonging to the inner constitution or concealed nature of something."
Daniel Brown (full disclosure: Brown is a contributor to ÆQAI) knew that when he chose five area artists for the exhibition 'Interior Views' at Sandra Small Gallery, through February 12.
The four representational painters—Rob Anderson, Marty Cooper, Daniel P. O'Connor, and Tina Tamarro (and the lone sculptor, Margot Gotoff)—reveal their own interiors, their own artistic personalities as they strive to depict the inner lives of their subjects and invite viewers to go into their own 'interiors.'
All of Rob Anderson's realistically rendered figures' intense expressions signal that they are engaged in deep contemplation, but what are they thinking about? That is unknown, especially in his series of Small Portraits, which are installed as a group. With one exception, these men—and they are all men—look away from the viewer. There is no more information than the intent looks on their faces. Can viewers discern what is so concerning to them, or do they default to whatever is of concern to them?
Anderson gives viewers more information in The Family Portrait. In a bare room, a man and a woman sit in what must be uncomfortable straight chairs and stare blankly, avoiding the other's gaze. They sit together but do not interact. Witnesses/viewers are compelled to conjure a narrative for them and for themselves. Whatever it is, it is bleak.
Anderson's scenes are static, even when movement is depicted as in Apt. (2009) where a man is caught mid-step approaching an apartment door. In Tina Tamarro's oil-on-canvas paintings, movement is implied. Her blurred figures have come from somewhere, are going somewhere. Whereas Anderson's paintings are concrete, Tamarro's are ethereal. Anderson's brushwork is evident, but hers is truly expressionistic; sometimes paint is applied with a palette knife. Her figures are engaged in thought, and the works demand the same from their viewers.
Margot Gotoff. Eros, 2002. Cast Glass, 24in height. Photo Courtesy of the Sandra Small Gallery.
The atmospheric quality of Tamarro's scenes relates to Margot Gotoff's mask-like faces that seem to emerge from a mist. Gotoff's choice of medium—glass—gives her the ability to suggest solidity as well as evanescence. The immaterial material plays with light, allowing it to past through when transparent, fading when it's translucent, and completely eclipsed when opaque. Using it enables her to suggest a vaporous state as well as the corporeal. Gotoff's faces—without thinking, I see them as female—are generic, devoid of emotion, and leave the viewer the task of creating a narrative. Are these goddesses or ordinary women becoming independent? The heads with their calm, if not bland visages, can be seen as archetypes, not individuals, universal not unique.
Oddly, there is this same lack of specificity in Marty Cooper's self portraits, which one would expect to be especially revealing. Also oddly, Cooper is self-taught although his works recall some rather direct sources. Self Portrait 1 may not be a direct steal from a Picasso self-portrait from 1906, but it comes close. Although Cooper confronts the viewer and Picasso has turned away somewhat, both artists are dressed in white shirts and their torsos are flattened, so there is no sense of a body wearing those shirts. Their faces are blank and have the same sad almond-shaped eyes.
More distinctive is Close Up Marty. Here Cooper focuses on the central portion of his face, which while still identifiable, reads more as topographical map than face. But again, he is not completely original. Contemporary painter Susan Crile first gained attention with a series of paintings depicting Oriental rugs seen from above as rugs naturally are. They were bunched up, forming 'hills' and 'valleys,' to create a landscape of decorative motifs. Also Cooper's palette of reds and oranges evokes a specific image of the Southwest with sandstone buttes in the distance. (The painting is clear in my mind, but its author remains maddeningly elusive.) While Cooper's paintings sent me off on an art historical quest, I wonder how they affect other viewers.
Dan O'Connor. Waste, 2009. Oil on linen over 2 panels, 24x31.75in. Photo Courtesy of the Sandra Small Gallery.
Cooper's self portraits are less illuminating than Daniel P. O'Connor's works where the figure is eliminated completely. In his still lifes and fragments of rooms, although no person is present, viewers may glean more insight than if O'Connor had meticulously painted the owner of the mundane objects shown. Because they are commonplace, viewers may find it easy to insert themselves into these scenes, and once there, memories come unbidden. In Waste, hardly a romantic title, he depicts a wastebasket seen from above. Sitting on a turquoise tiled bathroom floor, common in pre-war buildings, it is filled with a crumpled Dunkin' Donuts bag, a squeezed-out tube of toothpaste, and a strand of dental floss. A whole narrative about the absent person can be built from these ordinary objects, while activating the viewer's memory bank. It's not exactly a madeleine, but evocative nonetheless.
The artists in 'Interior Views' illustrate and inspire introspection. It is an exhibition that demands more than a glance to process—internalize—what is there to be seen.
