Metro Pulse/Artbeat/Mixed media

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What:
Mixed Media

Where:
The Bennett Galleries, 5308 Kingston Pike

When:
Through July 31 (call 584-6791 for information)

Mixed media artists grapple with range of materials and concerns

by Heather Joyner

The mood these days at Bennett Galleries is one of refinement. The place feels classy, and pieces in the current mixed media exhibit complement the peacefully tidy atmosphere. Although some artists presented have proven that they're not afraid to create a lively mess from time to time, it seems much of the selected work reflects less spontaneous efforts. For viewers who want art that stimulates as well as pleases, the Bennett show is a tad disappointing.

When speaking of spontaneity, I do not mean artistic style. Rather, I'm referring to a stimulating spontaneity and risky presence of spirit. Whatever we call it, it's akin to the energy of a singer belting her heart out (as opposed to the expert moves of a talented but settled chanteuse). And given the narrative bent of many exhibited pieces, gallery goers naturally expect evidence of self-challenge. As habitual as precision is for some artists, it need not result in "stories" that end as initially intended. Safety in art is frustrating, and safety in numbers—despite the variety of perspectives and methods displayed—makes me wonder what's going on.

Other questions posed by Bennett's mixed media show relate to male versus female expression. Outnumbering the men's work by approximately two-to-one, work by women essentially orders what would otherwise be visual chaos, and it does so on a rather small scale. It forces viewers to get up close and take in often complex details. Except for pieces by James Michael Starr, the men's contributions tend to be larger and less complicated. Sort of like the stereotypical male animal itself. Which forces one to ask if confidence and authority in their most obvious forms are always allowed more space in our culture. Does art requiring closer proximity have more personal impact? Is the personal less impressive than the general?

When Nancy Scheinman works on a larger scale than usual in her "Marsh King's Daughter," the components themselves are less overwhelming. Her smaller pieces with similar patches of embossed copper and bits of orientalia suffer from having everything but the kitchen sink thrown in (also a death kiss for first-time novelists). Then again, Dayna Thacker manages to combine all sorts of materials like blue feathers, chicken wire, and plastic figures without going overboard or burying her wit.

Speaking of impressive, we can flip through a gallery notebook with page after page of articulate artist statements and listings of participant's awards and past shows. In it is painter David Kidd's remark that "[Mine] is a quest for that which transcends the transient nature of our daily lives and connects us to something more permanent and substantial." Best known as a master of the glass medium, Knoxvillian Richard Jolley mentions documenting "our times and environment." James Yaun says, "Another [of my themes] is primitive man vs. technological man, which is a duality fought not only as man against man but also as man against himself." Big goals, these. Starr's words are more intimate: "After a while, I felt I had something to say. I wanted to say that we all have secrets and memories we fear might come spilling out in front of everyone.... I wanted to describe how God had been following close behind me on a very long walk through hell. So I made halos out of copper nails."

Halos also factor into a group of images by UT printmaking professor Anita Jung. Reminiscent of da Vinci, their semi-obscured subtext lends them a particular modernity. Kidd achieves gorgeous texture in his sizable paintings with elements tied to Magritte or Dali. And what Jolley has done to produce the coppery surface in his "Untitled Bust" is eye-catching.

Statements by Scheinman, Kimberly Goodson Naranjo, Susan Wood Reider, and Graceann Warn reveal another brand of ambition. For instance, Naranjo writes, "I am learning about how every choice that I make has an impact, and how the only way to respond to not knowing is to rest in the mystery until the next discovery is made." Scheinman describes creating paintings that "present a sense of place, not a place imagined, but one desired." Warn remarks, "I create pieces that are half the story....a viewer is required to enter the story and complete it." And Reider says, "I am fortunate to be able to express an enthusiastic 'thank you' to life through art." It's as if the women are projecting from the inside out, whereas the men are concerned with that which is generally beyond them—an interesting contrast. Works by Barbara Carter, Joyce Gralak (whose current Candy Factory show was reviewed in the July 11 Metro Pulse), Marga Hayes Ingram, Mary Ellen Leger, Lisa Norris, Gary Schlappal, Carl Sublett, and Jen Swearington round out the offerings.

Warn and Ingram share an arched box format, but Warn provides too few surprises in her ultra polished work. Ingram's use of a stoneware substrate for what resembles Dutch Renaissance painting (such as her still-life "Rattle With Cherries") is, in itself, surprising. Leger's "Geometry Series #17" likewise alludes to Renaissance perfection and does so employing unusual materials. Her grid of glass transparencies has immediate visual impact. Equally striking are Lisa Norris' large canvases incorporating old clothing patterns and oil pastels.

Another of the show's divisions relates to the media being mixed. The two camps work with either found objects or things that have less obvious prior purposes. Taking the former route can be perilous (in that recognizable objects often dominate the whole), and it moreover involves creating connections instead of constructing something from raw material. The perils in starting from scratch are different, with making rather than finding meaning as the modus operandi. Both approaches fall short when over-manipulated, and when that happens in this exhibit, it's a bit trying. But like life, art is sometimes that way. We can only push ahead and reap whatever rewards come our way.