Loading...
 

Visual Arts

Visual Arts


array(77) {
  ["title"]=>
  string(47) "Tomás Esson pieces together human nature"
  ["modification_date"]=>
  string(25) "2018-01-20T19:39:04+00:00"
  ["creation_date"]=>
  string(25) "2017-12-29T19:21:41+00:00"
  ["contributors"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(29) "ben.eason@creativeloafing.com"
  }
  ["date"]=>
  string(25) "2008-12-31T05:04:00+00:00"
  ["tracker_status"]=>
  string(1) "o"
  ["tracker_id"]=>
  string(2) "11"
  ["view_permission"]=>
  string(13) "view_trackers"
  ["tracker_field_contentTitle"]=>
  string(47) "Tomás Esson pieces together human nature"
  ["tracker_field_contentByline"]=>
  string(12) "Cinque Hicks"
  ["tracker_field_contentByline_exact"]=>
  string(12) "Cinque Hicks"
  ["tracker_field_contentBylinePerson"]=>
  string(6) "146030"
  ["tracker_field_contentBylinePerson_text"]=>
  string(7) "1306447"
  ["tracker_field_contentDate"]=>
  string(25) "2008-12-31T05:04:00+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage"]=>
  string(57) "Content:_:Tom aacute s Esson pieces together human nature"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_text"]=>
  string(2253) "In El Bicho: 2008/2009, Cuban painter Tomás Esson takes a detour around the well-behaved superego and instead drives straight for the pulsing flesh of the id. The Hammonds House Museum exhibition comprises 60 of the artist's sexiest, nastiest, most sublime works in an orgiastic feast surveying Esson's creative output over the last 20 years.

A personal menagerie of half-human beasts and beings with confused and confusing bodies populate Esson's large oil paintings. Rear ends substitute for breasts and a phallicized finger spits something aggressive and poisonous. In the show's title work, a creature hunches over, looking more frightened than frightening. Like writhing internal spirits, elemental human parts cover its flesh, the organs disembodied yet entirely connected in a bright network of riotous cacophony.

The smaller works – many on paper – constitute a constellation of vaginas, anuses, mouths, breasts and penises that combine in frenzied, abstract outbursts of color and line. And contrary to contemporary art's often clinical approach to the body, Esson's work is always wet. Fluids spew and leak everywhere, the body unable to contain its vital stuff. Throughout the show, Esson's tone is far more celebratory than foreboding. He makes it clear that the body, mutable as it may be, is ultimately the conduit to a kind of metaphysical liberation reflected in the free, improvisational application of paint. Like British painters Cecily Brown and Jenny Saville, Esson attacks his subjects with the gusto of a shaman in orgasm, a crazed nymphomaniac speaking directly to God.

El Bicho makes for a dramatic response to a recent solo show by Esson's friend and compatriot Maria Magdalena Campos-Pons. While Campos-Pons' Spelman survey was all spirit and longing, El Bicho is all body and immediate gratification. Depicting what Esson calls the "most important masculine and feminine attributes," the artist posits humanity as reduced to the driving impulses that issue from between the legs; he finds that those are the elements that make us most human. With his gorgeously raw brushwork, Esson reminds us that we're only so much reconfigurable meat. But in those reconfigurations lie every dream of freedom, every spark of life."
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_raw"]=>
  string(2265) "In ''El Bicho: 2008/2009'', Cuban painter Tomás Esson takes a detour around the well-behaved superego and instead drives straight for the pulsing flesh of the id. The Hammonds House Museum exhibition comprises 60 of the artist's sexiest, nastiest, most sublime works in an orgiastic feast surveying Esson's creative output over the last 20 years.

A personal menagerie of half-human beasts and beings with confused and confusing bodies populate Esson's large oil paintings. Rear ends substitute for breasts and a phallicized finger spits something aggressive and poisonous. In the show's title work, a creature hunches over, looking more frightened than frightening. Like writhing internal spirits, elemental human parts cover its flesh, the organs disembodied yet entirely connected in a bright network of riotous cacophony.

The smaller works – many on paper – constitute a constellation of vaginas, anuses, mouths, breasts and penises that combine in frenzied, abstract outbursts of color and line. And contrary to contemporary art's often clinical approach to the body, Esson's work is always wet. Fluids spew and leak everywhere, the body unable to contain its vital stuff. Throughout the show, Esson's tone is far more celebratory than foreboding. He makes it clear that the body, mutable as it may be, is ultimately the conduit to a kind of metaphysical liberation reflected in the free, improvisational application of paint. Like British painters Cecily Brown and Jenny Saville, Esson attacks his subjects with the gusto of a shaman in orgasm, a crazed nymphomaniac speaking directly to God.

''El Bicho'' makes for a dramatic response to a recent solo show by Esson's friend and compatriot Maria Magdalena Campos-Pons. While Campos-Pons' Spelman survey was all spirit and longing, ''El Bicho'' is all body and immediate gratification. Depicting what Esson calls the "most important masculine and feminine attributes," the artist posits humanity as reduced to the driving impulses that issue from between the legs; he finds that those are the elements that make us most human. With his gorgeously raw brushwork, Esson reminds us that we're only so much reconfigurable meat. But in those reconfigurations lie every dream of freedom, every spark of life."
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_creation_date"]=>
  string(25) "2018-01-20T19:39:04+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_modification_date"]=>
  string(25) "2018-01-20T19:39:04+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(3) "631"
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory_text"]=>
  string(3) "631"
  ["tracker_field_contentControlCategory"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_scene"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentNeighborhood"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelations_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelatedContent_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelatedWikiPages_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentBASEContentID"]=>
  string(8) "13028834"
  ["tracker_field_contentLegacyContentID"]=>
  string(7) "1276968"
  ["tracker_field_contentBASEAuthorID"]=>
  int(0)
  ["tracker_field_section"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["language"]=>
  string(7) "unknown"
  ["attachments"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["comment_count"]=>
  int(0)
  ["categories"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    int(581)
  }
  ["deep_categories"]=>
  array(3) {
    [0]=>
    int(242)
    [1]=>
    int(244)
    [2]=>
    int(581)
  }
  ["categories_under_28"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_28"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_1"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_1"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_177"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_177"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_209"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_209"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_163"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_163"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_171"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_171"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_153"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_153"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_242"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_242"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    int(244)
    [1]=>
    int(581)
  }
  ["categories_under_564"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_564"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_1182"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_1182"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["freetags"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["geo_located"]=>
  string(1) "n"
  ["allowed_groups"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(6) "Admins"
    [1]=>
    string(9) "Anonymous"
  }
  ["allowed_users"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relations"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relation_objects"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relation_types"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relation_count"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["title_initial"]=>
  string(1) "T"
  ["title_firstword"]=>
  string(12) "Tomás"
  ["searchable"]=>
  string(1) "y"
  ["url"]=>
  string(10) "item180116"
  ["object_type"]=>
  string(11) "trackeritem"
  ["object_id"]=>
  string(6) "180116"
  ["contents"]=>
  string(2487) "       2008-12-31T05:04:00+00:00 Tomás Esson pieces together human nature   Cinque Hicks 1306447 2008-12-31T05:04:00+00:00  In El Bicho: 2008/2009, Cuban painter Tomás Esson takes a detour around the well-behaved superego and instead drives straight for the pulsing flesh of the id. The Hammonds House Museum exhibition comprises 60 of the artist's sexiest, nastiest, most sublime works in an orgiastic feast surveying Esson's creative output over the last 20 years.

A personal menagerie of half-human beasts and beings with confused and confusing bodies populate Esson's large oil paintings. Rear ends substitute for breasts and a phallicized finger spits something aggressive and poisonous. In the show's title work, a creature hunches over, looking more frightened than frightening. Like writhing internal spirits, elemental human parts cover its flesh, the organs disembodied yet entirely connected in a bright network of riotous cacophony.

The smaller works – many on paper – constitute a constellation of vaginas, anuses, mouths, breasts and penises that combine in frenzied, abstract outbursts of color and line. And contrary to contemporary art's often clinical approach to the body, Esson's work is always wet. Fluids spew and leak everywhere, the body unable to contain its vital stuff. Throughout the show, Esson's tone is far more celebratory than foreboding. He makes it clear that the body, mutable as it may be, is ultimately the conduit to a kind of metaphysical liberation reflected in the free, improvisational application of paint. Like British painters Cecily Brown and Jenny Saville, Esson attacks his subjects with the gusto of a shaman in orgasm, a crazed nymphomaniac speaking directly to God.

El Bicho makes for a dramatic response to a recent solo show by Esson's friend and compatriot Maria Magdalena Campos-Pons. While Campos-Pons' Spelman survey was all spirit and longing, El Bicho is all body and immediate gratification. Depicting what Esson calls the "most important masculine and feminine attributes," the artist posits humanity as reduced to the driving impulses that issue from between the legs; he finds that those are the elements that make us most human. With his gorgeously raw brushwork, Esson reminds us that we're only so much reconfigurable meat. But in those reconfigurations lie every dream of freedom, every spark of life.             13028834 1276968                          Tomás Esson pieces together human nature "
  ["score"]=>
  float(0)
  ["_index"]=>
  string(21) "atlantawiki_tiki_main"
  ["objectlink"]=>
  string(36) "No value for 'contentTitle'"
  ["photos"]=>
  string(130) "Coming Soon

"
  ["desc"]=>
  string(32) "No description provided"
  ["chit_category"]=>
  string(11) "88"
}

Article

Wednesday December 31, 2008 12:04 am EST

In El Bicho: 2008/2009, Cuban painter Tomás Esson takes a detour around the well-behaved superego and instead drives straight for the pulsing flesh of the id. The Hammonds House Museum exhibition comprises 60 of the artist's sexiest, nastiest, most sublime works in an orgiastic feast surveying Esson's creative output over the last 20 years.

A personal menagerie of half-human beasts and beings...

| more...
array(77) {
  ["title"]=>
  string(50) "Thomas Dozol's I'll Be Your Mirror at Opal Gallery"
  ["modification_date"]=>
  string(25) "2018-01-20T19:39:04+00:00"
  ["creation_date"]=>
  string(25) "2017-12-29T19:21:41+00:00"
  ["contributors"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(29) "ben.eason@creativeloafing.com"
  }
  ["date"]=>
  string(25) "2008-12-10T05:04:00+00:00"
  ["tracker_status"]=>
  string(1) "o"
  ["tracker_id"]=>
  string(2) "11"
  ["view_permission"]=>
  string(13) "view_trackers"
  ["tracker_field_contentTitle"]=>
  string(50) "Thomas Dozol's I'll Be Your Mirror at Opal Gallery"
  ["tracker_field_contentByline"]=>
  string(12) "Cinque Hicks"
  ["tracker_field_contentByline_exact"]=>
  string(12) "Cinque Hicks"
  ["tracker_field_contentBylinePerson"]=>
  string(6) "146030"
  ["tracker_field_contentBylinePerson_text"]=>
  string(7) "1306447"
  ["tracker_field_contentDate"]=>
  string(25) "2008-12-10T05:04:00+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage"]=>
  string(60) "Content:_:Thomas Dozol's I'll Be Your Mirror at Opal Gallery"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_text"]=>
  string(2100) "Given the sheer volume of stuff bursting Flickr's virtual seams and tumbling out of studios belonging to everyone from fine artists to part-timers at Sears, is there anything new to discover about the overexposed, early 21st-century human form? Self-taught photographer Thomas Dozol wades into this glut of human images in a new solo exhibition at Opal Gallery. And with some aplomb he manages to peel back yet another layer of the onion that is our shared humanity.

In I'll Be Your Mirror, Dozol photographs 25 friends, acquaintances and family members in their bathrooms and private spaces, all within 15 minutes of stepping out of the shower. Most are still wet. "Caroline" is (perhaps) shivering, perched tensely on her bed, while "Timothee," "Kai," and half a dozen other men are caught in the middle of shaving or suspended in some other personal ritual. All of Dozol's subjects seem to have been caught daydreaming, wearing what Dozol calls "the authentic face" during the most honest moment of the day.

Dozol is a native of Martinique and the partner of R.E.M.'s Michael Stipe, one of the 25 subjects in I'll Be Your Mirror. Dozol chronicles his inner circle mainly in Athens and New York City. It's a circle that includes a roster of musicians, artists and fashion industry types, among them Gwyneth Paltrow and Mike Mills. Dozol just happens to have access to their bathrooms.

At 16 inches square, the prints are relatively small, save for the 12-foot-by-10-foot print that greets both gallery visitors and passers-by on the street. This smaller-than-human dimension underscores the tightness and closeness of the photographer and his subjects. The photos become fragile documents of an intense, internal domestic stillness that each of us moves through every day.

Does the world need another portrait photographer? If it's an artist with the fearless intimacy of Thomas Dozol, then the answer must be a resounding yes.

I'll be Your Mirror: Photographs by Thomas Dozol. Through Jan. 10. Thurs.-Sat., noon-7 p.m. Opal Gallery, 484 B-2 Moreland Ave. 678-717-8890. www.theopalgallery.com."
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_raw"]=>
  string(2145) "Given the sheer volume of stuff bursting Flickr's virtual seams and tumbling out of studios belonging to everyone from fine artists to part-timers at Sears, is there anything new to discover about the overexposed, early 21st-century human form? Self-taught photographer Thomas Dozol wades into this glut of human images in a new solo exhibition at Opal Gallery. And with some aplomb he manages to peel back yet another layer of the onion that is our shared humanity.

In ''I'll Be Your Mirror'', Dozol photographs 25 friends, acquaintances and family members in their bathrooms and private spaces, all within 15 minutes of stepping out of the shower. Most are still wet. "Caroline" is (perhaps) shivering, perched tensely on her bed, while "Timothee," "Kai," and half a dozen other men are caught in the middle of shaving or suspended in some other personal ritual. All of Dozol's subjects seem to have been caught daydreaming, wearing what Dozol calls "the authentic face" during the most honest moment of the day.

Dozol is a native of Martinique and the partner of R.E.M.'s Michael Stipe, one of the 25 subjects in ''I'll Be Your Mirror''. Dozol chronicles his inner circle mainly in Athens and New York City. It's a circle that includes a roster of musicians, artists and fashion industry types, among them Gwyneth Paltrow and Mike Mills. Dozol just happens to have access to their bathrooms.

At 16 inches square, the prints are relatively small, save for the 12-foot-by-10-foot print that greets both gallery visitors and passers-by on the street. This smaller-than-human dimension underscores the tightness and closeness of the photographer and his subjects. The photos become fragile documents of an intense, internal domestic stillness that each of us moves through every day.

Does the world need another portrait photographer? If it's an artist with the fearless intimacy of Thomas Dozol, then the answer must be a resounding yes.

I'll be Your Mirror: Photographs by Thomas Dozol. ''Through Jan. 10. Thurs.-Sat., noon-7 p.m. Opal Gallery, 484 B-2 Moreland Ave. 678-717-8890. [http://www.theopalgallery.com/|www.theopalgallery.com].''"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_creation_date"]=>
  string(25) "2018-01-20T19:39:04+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_modification_date"]=>
  string(25) "2018-01-20T19:39:04+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(3) "631"
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory_text"]=>
  string(3) "631"
  ["tracker_field_contentControlCategory"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_scene"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentNeighborhood"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelations_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelatedContent_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelatedWikiPages_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentBASEContentID"]=>
  string(8) "13028714"
  ["tracker_field_contentLegacyContentID"]=>
  string(7) "1276665"
  ["tracker_field_contentBASEAuthorID"]=>
  int(0)
  ["tracker_field_section"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["language"]=>
  string(7) "unknown"
  ["attachments"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["comment_count"]=>
  int(0)
  ["categories"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    int(581)
  }
  ["deep_categories"]=>
  array(3) {
    [0]=>
    int(242)
    [1]=>
    int(244)
    [2]=>
    int(581)
  }
  ["categories_under_28"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_28"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_1"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_1"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_177"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_177"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_209"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_209"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_163"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_163"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_171"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_171"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_153"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_153"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_242"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_242"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    int(244)
    [1]=>
    int(581)
  }
  ["categories_under_564"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_564"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_1182"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_1182"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["freetags"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["geo_located"]=>
  string(1) "n"
  ["allowed_groups"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(6) "Admins"
    [1]=>
    string(9) "Anonymous"
  }
  ["allowed_users"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relations"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relation_objects"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relation_types"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relation_count"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["title_initial"]=>
  string(1) "T"
  ["title_firstword"]=>
  string(6) "Thomas"
  ["searchable"]=>
  string(1) "y"
  ["url"]=>
  string(10) "item180115"
  ["object_type"]=>
  string(11) "trackeritem"
  ["object_id"]=>
  string(6) "180115"
  ["contents"]=>
  string(2340) "       2008-12-10T05:04:00+00:00 Thomas Dozol's I'll Be Your Mirror at Opal Gallery   Cinque Hicks 1306447 2008-12-10T05:04:00+00:00  Given the sheer volume of stuff bursting Flickr's virtual seams and tumbling out of studios belonging to everyone from fine artists to part-timers at Sears, is there anything new to discover about the overexposed, early 21st-century human form? Self-taught photographer Thomas Dozol wades into this glut of human images in a new solo exhibition at Opal Gallery. And with some aplomb he manages to peel back yet another layer of the onion that is our shared humanity.

In I'll Be Your Mirror, Dozol photographs 25 friends, acquaintances and family members in their bathrooms and private spaces, all within 15 minutes of stepping out of the shower. Most are still wet. "Caroline" is (perhaps) shivering, perched tensely on her bed, while "Timothee," "Kai," and half a dozen other men are caught in the middle of shaving or suspended in some other personal ritual. All of Dozol's subjects seem to have been caught daydreaming, wearing what Dozol calls "the authentic face" during the most honest moment of the day.

Dozol is a native of Martinique and the partner of R.E.M.'s Michael Stipe, one of the 25 subjects in I'll Be Your Mirror. Dozol chronicles his inner circle mainly in Athens and New York City. It's a circle that includes a roster of musicians, artists and fashion industry types, among them Gwyneth Paltrow and Mike Mills. Dozol just happens to have access to their bathrooms.

At 16 inches square, the prints are relatively small, save for the 12-foot-by-10-foot print that greets both gallery visitors and passers-by on the street. This smaller-than-human dimension underscores the tightness and closeness of the photographer and his subjects. The photos become fragile documents of an intense, internal domestic stillness that each of us moves through every day.

Does the world need another portrait photographer? If it's an artist with the fearless intimacy of Thomas Dozol, then the answer must be a resounding yes.

I'll be Your Mirror: Photographs by Thomas Dozol. Through Jan. 10. Thurs.-Sat., noon-7 p.m. Opal Gallery, 484 B-2 Moreland Ave. 678-717-8890. www.theopalgallery.com.             13028714 1276665                          Thomas Dozol's I'll Be Your Mirror at Opal Gallery "
  ["score"]=>
  float(0)
  ["_index"]=>
  string(21) "atlantawiki_tiki_main"
  ["objectlink"]=>
  string(36) "No value for 'contentTitle'"
  ["photos"]=>
  string(130) "Coming Soon

"
  ["desc"]=>
  string(32) "No description provided"
  ["chit_category"]=>
  string(11) "88"
}

Article

Wednesday December 10, 2008 12:04 am EST
Given the sheer volume of stuff bursting Flickr's virtual seams and tumbling out of studios belonging to everyone from fine artists to part-timers at Sears, is there anything new to discover about the overexposed, early 21st-century human form? Self-taught photographer Thomas Dozol wades into this glut of human images in a new solo exhibition at Opal Gallery. And with some aplomb he manages to... | more...
array(77) {
  ["title"]=>
  string(52) "The CDC contains an Outbreak of cultural curiosities"
  ["modification_date"]=>
  string(25) "2018-01-20T19:39:04+00:00"
  ["creation_date"]=>
  string(25) "2017-12-29T19:21:41+00:00"
  ["contributors"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(29) "ben.eason@creativeloafing.com"
  }
  ["date"]=>
  string(25) "2008-11-26T05:04:00+00:00"
  ["tracker_status"]=>
  string(1) "o"
  ["tracker_id"]=>
  string(2) "11"
  ["view_permission"]=>
  string(13) "view_trackers"
  ["tracker_field_contentTitle"]=>
  string(52) "The CDC contains an Outbreak of cultural curiosities"
  ["tracker_field_contentByline"]=>
  string(12) "Cinque Hicks"
  ["tracker_field_contentByline_exact"]=>
  string(12) "Cinque Hicks"
  ["tracker_field_contentBylinePerson"]=>
  string(6) "146030"
  ["tracker_field_contentBylinePerson_text"]=>
  string(7) "1306447"
  ["tracker_field_contentDate"]=>
  string(25) "2008-11-26T05:04:00+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage"]=>
  string(62) "Content:_:The CDC contains an Outbreak of cultural curiosities"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_text"]=>
  string(5622) "Did the bubonic plague extinguish Europe's feudal caste system and trigger the rise of the middle-class bourgeoisie? Did yellow fever end the trafficking of African slaves to the New World? Did the Spanish flu halt World War I? According to Outbreak: Plagues that Changed History, currently on view at the CDC's Global Health Odyssey Museum, the answers are maybe, maybe and maybe. And although it's assuredly an oversimplification to attribute some of history's biggest events to any single cause, Outbreak puts forth the intriguing notion that many of the defining currents of human social and cultural history around the globe have at least been influenced by some of the planet's smallest inhabitants.

Outbreak is the artistic brainchild of painter and illustrator Bryn Barnard. Barnard's 2005 book of the same name targets middle-school children with lush gouache and oil paintings that bring to life key moments in world history. It shows how a slew of unimaginably destructive epidemiological disasters gave us the world we live in now. The exhibit comprises Barnard's original paintings along with maps and text borrowed from the book. It's the first collected public showing of the work, and as is typical for CDC exhibitions, Outbreak aims to make explicit connections between broad health issues and daily life.

Curator Louise Shaw glides though the exhibit, stopping here and there to point out a few noteworthy works. She pauses before a small painting of cholera victims being unloaded at the port of Jaffa in Tel-Aviv. Until 1912, cholera was one of the major hazards facing those who made the Muslim pilgrimage known as Hajj. "This is my favorite painting in the show," says Shaw. "It's sort of like a Gérôme."

"Or Delacroix," I add.

"Yeah, all those 19th-century French painters!"

Our obscure historical art references point out the tightrope Shaw and her CDC colleagues must constantly walk in their programming for the museum. A show designed for middle-schoolers must also appeal to adults, tourists, CDC staff and government bureaucrats. Global Health Odyssey is a federally funded educational institution, not an art center, and even a casual visit requires an automobile search and a trip through a metal detector. But once visitors undergo the "CDC experience," as staffers call the rigorous security protocol, the facility offers a slice of culture unavailable anywhere else in the city. Examining health by way of art, design and other cultural artifacts is where the CDC excels.

Shaw turns and we head away from the port of Jaffa and toward feudal Europe. The cholera illustration may be her favorite painting in the show, but her favorite disease is the so-called Black Death, which killed nearly 24 million Europeans between 1346 and 1351. (It's not unusual for CDC staff members to have "favorite" diseases.)

Barnard has illustrated this ignominious moment in history with a painting of a doctor comforting a distraught young woman while a male relative lies dying in the background. The painting is loaded with historical and cultural details: the crucifix on the wall, the bowl used for bloodletting, the smattering of dead mice on the floor.

Perhaps most striking is the doctor's period uniform, which consists of a long robe, white gloves, a flat, wide-brimmed hat, and a mask with glass lenses and a long beaklike protrusion. The beaked mask survives to this day in Carnivale and Mardi Gras celebrations, illustrating Barnard's point: that the culture wrought in times of great disease and pestilence flows like a tributary into the sweeping river of history and lets out into the present in often surprising ways. In Black Death's case, feudal Europe was a festering stinkhole full of illiterates walking streets clogged with garbage and human waste. Meanwhile, universities flourished in the Middle East and the Aztecs traversed well-maintained roads complete with public pay toilets at regular intervals.

All that changed, however, when a third of Europe's population succumbed to the bubonic plague over just five years. With a smaller labor force, wages increased, prices decreased, wealth was accumulated and, voila!, a middle class was born. At least that's the short version of the story. Social history is far too complex to assert that the Yersinia pestis bacterium single-handedly created the middle class. But as an agent of history, its influence is undeniable.

Judy Gantt is the museum's director. Her favorite disease is the Spanish flu. That pandemic is currently thought to be the deadliest in human history, racking up a hefty body count between 60 million and 100 million worldwide. Gantt points to Outbreak's power to help visitors consider what impact present-day diseases may be having on our culture now and in the future.

"AIDS certainly is having an effect," says Gantt, who also cites chronic diseases such as obesity and diabetes as potential game changers. Both Shaw and Gantt talk about how "smart" the AIDS virus is, how it has learned to survive everything humans have thrown at it and how it is certainly changing society in Africa, the U.S. and elsewhere.

Of course, we won't know the full impact of AIDS and other current epidemics on world culture for generations. Artists of perhaps the 22nd and 23rd centuries will have to take that up. But as the CDC's scientists work toward the prevention of these diseases, we can hope for a day when red ribbons follow the same course as the plague doctors' masks – the signs of inevitable death transformed by history into a symbol to all revelers that there's reason to let the good times roll."
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_raw"]=>
  string(5646) "Did the bubonic plague extinguish Europe's feudal caste system and trigger the rise of the middle-class bourgeoisie? Did yellow fever end the trafficking of African slaves to the New World? Did the Spanish flu halt World War I? According to ''Outbreak: Plagues that Changed History,'' currently on view at the CDC's Global Health Odyssey Museum, the answers are maybe, maybe and maybe. And although it's assuredly an oversimplification to attribute some of history's biggest events to any single cause, ''Outbreak'' puts forth the intriguing notion that many of the defining currents of human social and cultural history around the globe have at least been influenced by some of the planet's smallest inhabitants.

''Outbreak'' is the artistic brainchild of painter and illustrator Bryn Barnard. Barnard's 2005 book of the same name targets middle-school children with lush gouache and oil paintings that bring to life key moments in world history. It shows how a slew of unimaginably destructive epidemiological disasters gave us the world we live in now. The exhibit comprises Barnard's original paintings along with maps and text borrowed from the book. It's the first collected public showing of the work, and as is typical for CDC exhibitions, ''Outbreak'' aims to make explicit connections between broad health issues and daily life.

Curator Louise Shaw glides though the exhibit, stopping here and there to point out a few noteworthy works. She pauses before a small painting of cholera victims being unloaded at the port of Jaffa in Tel-Aviv. Until 1912, cholera was one of the major hazards facing those who made the Muslim pilgrimage known as Hajj. "This is my favorite painting in the show," says Shaw. "It's sort of like a Gérôme."

"Or Delacroix," I add.

"Yeah, all those 19th-century French painters!"

Our obscure historical art references point out the tightrope Shaw and her CDC colleagues must constantly walk in their programming for the museum. A show designed for middle-schoolers must also appeal to adults, tourists, CDC staff and government bureaucrats. Global Health Odyssey is a federally funded educational institution, not an art center, and even a casual visit requires an automobile search and a trip through a metal detector. But once visitors undergo the "CDC experience," as staffers call the rigorous security protocol, the facility offers a slice of culture unavailable anywhere else in the city. Examining health by way of art, design and other cultural artifacts is where the CDC excels.

Shaw turns and we head away from the port of Jaffa and toward feudal Europe. The cholera illustration may be her favorite painting in the show, but her favorite disease is the so-called Black Death, which killed nearly 24 million Europeans between 1346 and 1351. (It's not unusual for CDC staff members to have "favorite" diseases.)

Barnard has illustrated this ignominious moment in history with a painting of a doctor comforting a distraught young woman while a male relative lies dying in the background. The painting is loaded with historical and cultural details: the crucifix on the wall, the bowl used for bloodletting, the smattering of dead mice on the floor.

Perhaps most striking is the doctor's period uniform, which consists of a long robe, white gloves, a flat, wide-brimmed hat, and a mask with glass lenses and a long beaklike protrusion. The beaked mask survives to this day in Carnivale and Mardi Gras celebrations, illustrating Barnard's point: that the culture wrought in times of great disease and pestilence flows like a tributary into the sweeping river of history and lets out into the present in often surprising ways. In Black Death's case, feudal Europe was a festering stinkhole full of illiterates walking streets clogged with garbage and human waste. Meanwhile, universities flourished in the Middle East and the Aztecs traversed well-maintained roads complete with public pay toilets at regular intervals.

All that changed, however, when a third of Europe's population succumbed to the bubonic plague over just five years. With a smaller labor force, wages increased, prices decreased, wealth was accumulated and, ''voila!'', a middle class was born. At least that's the short version of the story. Social history is far too complex to assert that the Yersinia pestis bacterium single-handedly created the middle class. But as an agent of history, its influence is undeniable.

Judy Gantt is the museum's director. Her favorite disease is the Spanish flu. That pandemic is currently thought to be the deadliest in human history, racking up a hefty body count between 60 million and 100 million worldwide. Gantt points to ''Outbreak'''s power to help visitors consider what impact present-day diseases may be having on our culture now and in the future.

"AIDS certainly is having an effect," says Gantt, who also cites chronic diseases such as obesity and diabetes as potential game changers. Both Shaw and Gantt talk about how "smart" the AIDS virus is, how it has learned to survive everything humans have thrown at it and how it is certainly changing society in Africa, the U.S. and elsewhere.

Of course, we won't know the full impact of AIDS and other current epidemics on world culture for generations. Artists of perhaps the 22nd and 23rd centuries will have to take that up. But as the CDC's scientists work toward the prevention of these diseases, we can hope for a day when red ribbons follow the same course as the plague doctors' masks – the signs of inevitable death transformed by history into a symbol to all revelers that there's reason to let the good times roll."
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_creation_date"]=>
  string(25) "2018-01-20T19:39:04+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_modification_date"]=>
  string(25) "2018-01-20T19:39:04+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(3) "631"
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory_text"]=>
  string(3) "631"
  ["tracker_field_contentControlCategory"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_scene"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentNeighborhood"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelations_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelatedContent_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelatedWikiPages_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentBASEContentID"]=>
  string(8) "13028627"
  ["tracker_field_contentLegacyContentID"]=>
  string(7) "1276472"
  ["tracker_field_contentBASEAuthorID"]=>
  int(0)
  ["tracker_field_section"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["language"]=>
  string(7) "unknown"
  ["attachments"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["comment_count"]=>
  int(0)
  ["categories"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    int(581)
  }
  ["deep_categories"]=>
  array(3) {
    [0]=>
    int(242)
    [1]=>
    int(244)
    [2]=>
    int(581)
  }
  ["categories_under_28"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_28"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_1"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_1"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_177"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_177"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_209"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_209"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_163"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_163"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_171"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_171"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_153"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_153"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_242"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_242"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    int(244)
    [1]=>
    int(581)
  }
  ["categories_under_564"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_564"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_1182"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_1182"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["freetags"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["geo_located"]=>
  string(1) "n"
  ["allowed_groups"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(6) "Admins"
    [1]=>
    string(9) "Anonymous"
  }
  ["allowed_users"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relations"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relation_objects"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relation_types"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relation_count"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["title_initial"]=>
  string(1) "T"
  ["title_firstword"]=>
  string(3) "The"
  ["searchable"]=>
  string(1) "y"
  ["url"]=>
  string(10) "item180114"
  ["object_type"]=>
  string(11) "trackeritem"
  ["object_id"]=>
  string(6) "180114"
  ["contents"]=>
  string(5866) "       2008-11-26T05:04:00+00:00 The CDC contains an Outbreak of cultural curiosities   Cinque Hicks 1306447 2008-11-26T05:04:00+00:00  Did the bubonic plague extinguish Europe's feudal caste system and trigger the rise of the middle-class bourgeoisie? Did yellow fever end the trafficking of African slaves to the New World? Did the Spanish flu halt World War I? According to Outbreak: Plagues that Changed History, currently on view at the CDC's Global Health Odyssey Museum, the answers are maybe, maybe and maybe. And although it's assuredly an oversimplification to attribute some of history's biggest events to any single cause, Outbreak puts forth the intriguing notion that many of the defining currents of human social and cultural history around the globe have at least been influenced by some of the planet's smallest inhabitants.

Outbreak is the artistic brainchild of painter and illustrator Bryn Barnard. Barnard's 2005 book of the same name targets middle-school children with lush gouache and oil paintings that bring to life key moments in world history. It shows how a slew of unimaginably destructive epidemiological disasters gave us the world we live in now. The exhibit comprises Barnard's original paintings along with maps and text borrowed from the book. It's the first collected public showing of the work, and as is typical for CDC exhibitions, Outbreak aims to make explicit connections between broad health issues and daily life.

Curator Louise Shaw glides though the exhibit, stopping here and there to point out a few noteworthy works. She pauses before a small painting of cholera victims being unloaded at the port of Jaffa in Tel-Aviv. Until 1912, cholera was one of the major hazards facing those who made the Muslim pilgrimage known as Hajj. "This is my favorite painting in the show," says Shaw. "It's sort of like a Gérôme."

"Or Delacroix," I add.

"Yeah, all those 19th-century French painters!"

Our obscure historical art references point out the tightrope Shaw and her CDC colleagues must constantly walk in their programming for the museum. A show designed for middle-schoolers must also appeal to adults, tourists, CDC staff and government bureaucrats. Global Health Odyssey is a federally funded educational institution, not an art center, and even a casual visit requires an automobile search and a trip through a metal detector. But once visitors undergo the "CDC experience," as staffers call the rigorous security protocol, the facility offers a slice of culture unavailable anywhere else in the city. Examining health by way of art, design and other cultural artifacts is where the CDC excels.

Shaw turns and we head away from the port of Jaffa and toward feudal Europe. The cholera illustration may be her favorite painting in the show, but her favorite disease is the so-called Black Death, which killed nearly 24 million Europeans between 1346 and 1351. (It's not unusual for CDC staff members to have "favorite" diseases.)

Barnard has illustrated this ignominious moment in history with a painting of a doctor comforting a distraught young woman while a male relative lies dying in the background. The painting is loaded with historical and cultural details: the crucifix on the wall, the bowl used for bloodletting, the smattering of dead mice on the floor.

Perhaps most striking is the doctor's period uniform, which consists of a long robe, white gloves, a flat, wide-brimmed hat, and a mask with glass lenses and a long beaklike protrusion. The beaked mask survives to this day in Carnivale and Mardi Gras celebrations, illustrating Barnard's point: that the culture wrought in times of great disease and pestilence flows like a tributary into the sweeping river of history and lets out into the present in often surprising ways. In Black Death's case, feudal Europe was a festering stinkhole full of illiterates walking streets clogged with garbage and human waste. Meanwhile, universities flourished in the Middle East and the Aztecs traversed well-maintained roads complete with public pay toilets at regular intervals.

All that changed, however, when a third of Europe's population succumbed to the bubonic plague over just five years. With a smaller labor force, wages increased, prices decreased, wealth was accumulated and, voila!, a middle class was born. At least that's the short version of the story. Social history is far too complex to assert that the Yersinia pestis bacterium single-handedly created the middle class. But as an agent of history, its influence is undeniable.

Judy Gantt is the museum's director. Her favorite disease is the Spanish flu. That pandemic is currently thought to be the deadliest in human history, racking up a hefty body count between 60 million and 100 million worldwide. Gantt points to Outbreak's power to help visitors consider what impact present-day diseases may be having on our culture now and in the future.

"AIDS certainly is having an effect," says Gantt, who also cites chronic diseases such as obesity and diabetes as potential game changers. Both Shaw and Gantt talk about how "smart" the AIDS virus is, how it has learned to survive everything humans have thrown at it and how it is certainly changing society in Africa, the U.S. and elsewhere.

Of course, we won't know the full impact of AIDS and other current epidemics on world culture for generations. Artists of perhaps the 22nd and 23rd centuries will have to take that up. But as the CDC's scientists work toward the prevention of these diseases, we can hope for a day when red ribbons follow the same course as the plague doctors' masks – the signs of inevitable death transformed by history into a symbol to all revelers that there's reason to let the good times roll.             13028627 1276472                          The CDC contains an Outbreak of cultural curiosities "
  ["score"]=>
  float(0)
  ["_index"]=>
  string(21) "atlantawiki_tiki_main"
  ["objectlink"]=>
  string(36) "No value for 'contentTitle'"
  ["photos"]=>
  string(130) "Coming Soon

"
  ["desc"]=>
  string(32) "No description provided"
  ["chit_category"]=>
  string(11) "88"
}

Article

Wednesday November 26, 2008 12:04 am EST
Did the bubonic plague extinguish Europe's feudal caste system and trigger the rise of the middle-class bourgeoisie? Did yellow fever end the trafficking of African slaves to the New World? Did the Spanish flu halt World War I? According to Outbreak: Plagues that Changed History, currently on view at the CDC's Global Health Odyssey Museum, the answers are maybe, maybe and maybe. And although... | more...

array(77) {
  ["title"]=>
  string(44) "Marc Brotherton gets in shape at Callanwolde"
  ["modification_date"]=>
  string(25) "2018-01-20T19:39:04+00:00"
  ["creation_date"]=>
  string(25) "2017-12-29T19:21:41+00:00"
  ["contributors"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(29) "ben.eason@creativeloafing.com"
  }
  ["date"]=>
  string(25) "2008-11-19T05:04:00+00:00"
  ["tracker_status"]=>
  string(1) "o"
  ["tracker_id"]=>
  string(2) "11"
  ["view_permission"]=>
  string(13) "view_trackers"
  ["tracker_field_contentTitle"]=>
  string(44) "Marc Brotherton gets in shape at Callanwolde"
  ["tracker_field_contentByline"]=>
  string(12) "Cinque Hicks"
  ["tracker_field_contentByline_exact"]=>
  string(12) "Cinque Hicks"
  ["tracker_field_contentBylinePerson"]=>
  string(6) "146030"
  ["tracker_field_contentBylinePerson_text"]=>
  string(7) "1306447"
  ["tracker_field_contentDate"]=>
  string(25) "2008-11-19T05:04:00+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage"]=>
  string(54) "Content:_:Marc Brotherton gets in shape at Callanwolde"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_text"]=>
  string(2373) "The paintings in Proliferate, Marc Brotherton's solo exhibition at Callanwolde Fine Arts Center Gallery, map both the potential and the limits of an artist's engagement with his medium. All 11 works are executed in acrylics, most augmented with ink. And although a few paintings generate both heat and light, just as many run aground as the materials and technique fall short of their intended target.

In his best paintings, Brotherton channels the dysfunctional clockwork of early 20th-century geometric abstractionist Wassily Kandinsky. The works range from small-scale 20-by-16-inch canvases to medium-size works of about 3 by 4 feet. While the imagery in each painting comprises an abstract accumulation of geometric shapes – half orbs, crystalline structures, faceted triangles and so on – they simultaneously hint at all manner of crazed machines, mechanized little automata, and the weird technology of UFOs in flight.

"Subverter" (2008) is as close to an unqualified success as any work in the show. Like its companion works, "Subverter" is packed with Brotherton's private language of glyphs and schematic ink drawings ensconced in self-contained cells floating in a disarrayed pictorial universe. The painting's nautical art deco motifs explode with the kaleidoscopic psychedelia of Yellow Submarine--era Beatles. The colors are lucid, the surfaces active and clean.

"Subverter" is meticulously detailed – most of its major edges have been rendered hard as with a ruler or masking tape. The work references the history of graphic design as much as it does painting.

Other works, however, fare less well. "Subverter's" precision can't make up for "Nano Activator," which buckles under heavy-handed composition and an unsatisfying use of materials. "Nano Activator's" surfaces are gummy and at times have a distracting foamy, aerated quality.

A sub-school of Atlanta artists has made a career out of walking a tightrope between seeming chaos in composition and an almost neurotic sense of control in execution. Draftsman Alex Kvares comes to mind, as well as painter Matt Relkin, whose gem of a solo show at Young Blood Gallery last summer was rock solid.

Brotherton, however, visits that territory only in fits and starts. When the work gets there, the results are a revelation. When it misses, we're left only with bits and pieces looking for a whole."
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_raw"]=>
  string(2381) "The paintings in ''Proliferate'', Marc Brotherton's solo exhibition at Callanwolde Fine Arts Center Gallery, map both the potential and the limits of an artist's engagement with his medium. All 11 works are executed in acrylics, most augmented with ink. And although a few paintings generate both heat and light, just as many run aground as the materials and technique fall short of their intended target.

In his best paintings, Brotherton channels the dysfunctional clockwork of early 20th-century geometric abstractionist Wassily Kandinsky. The works range from small-scale 20-by-16-inch canvases to medium-size works of about 3 by 4 feet. While the imagery in each painting comprises an abstract accumulation of geometric shapes – half orbs, crystalline structures, faceted triangles and so on – they simultaneously hint at all manner of crazed machines, mechanized little automata, and the weird technology of UFOs in flight.

"Subverter" (2008) is as close to an unqualified success as any work in the show. Like its companion works, "Subverter" is packed with Brotherton's private language of glyphs and schematic ink drawings ensconced in self-contained cells floating in a disarrayed pictorial universe. The painting's nautical art deco motifs explode with the kaleidoscopic psychedelia of ''Yellow Submarine''--era Beatles. The colors are lucid, the surfaces active and clean.

"Subverter" is meticulously detailed – most of its major edges have been rendered hard as with a ruler or masking tape. The work references the history of graphic design as much as it does painting.

Other works, however, fare less well. "Subverter's" precision can't make up for "Nano Activator," which buckles under heavy-handed composition and an unsatisfying use of materials. "Nano Activator's" surfaces are gummy and at times have a distracting foamy, aerated quality.

A sub-school of Atlanta artists has made a career out of walking a tightrope between seeming chaos in composition and an almost neurotic sense of control in execution. Draftsman Alex Kvares comes to mind, as well as painter Matt Relkin, whose gem of a solo show at Young Blood Gallery last summer was rock solid.

Brotherton, however, visits that territory only in fits and starts. When the work gets there, the results are a revelation. When it misses, we're left only with bits and pieces looking for a whole."
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_creation_date"]=>
  string(25) "2018-01-20T19:39:04+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_modification_date"]=>
  string(25) "2018-01-20T19:39:04+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(3) "631"
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory_text"]=>
  string(3) "631"
  ["tracker_field_contentControlCategory"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_scene"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentNeighborhood"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelations_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelatedContent_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelatedWikiPages_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentBASEContentID"]=>
  string(8) "13028573"
  ["tracker_field_contentLegacyContentID"]=>
  string(7) "1276359"
  ["tracker_field_contentBASEAuthorID"]=>
  int(0)
  ["tracker_field_section"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["language"]=>
  string(7) "unknown"
  ["attachments"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["comment_count"]=>
  int(0)
  ["categories"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    int(581)
  }
  ["deep_categories"]=>
  array(3) {
    [0]=>
    int(242)
    [1]=>
    int(244)
    [2]=>
    int(581)
  }
  ["categories_under_28"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_28"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_1"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_1"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_177"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_177"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_209"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_209"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_163"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_163"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_171"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_171"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_153"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_153"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_242"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_242"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    int(244)
    [1]=>
    int(581)
  }
  ["categories_under_564"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_564"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_1182"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_1182"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["freetags"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["geo_located"]=>
  string(1) "n"
  ["allowed_groups"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(6) "Admins"
    [1]=>
    string(9) "Anonymous"
  }
  ["allowed_users"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relations"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relation_objects"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relation_types"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relation_count"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["title_initial"]=>
  string(1) "M"
  ["title_firstword"]=>
  string(4) "Marc"
  ["searchable"]=>
  string(1) "y"
  ["url"]=>
  string(10) "item180113"
  ["object_type"]=>
  string(11) "trackeritem"
  ["object_id"]=>
  string(6) "180113"
  ["contents"]=>
  string(2601) "       2008-11-19T05:04:00+00:00 Marc Brotherton gets in shape at Callanwolde   Cinque Hicks 1306447 2008-11-19T05:04:00+00:00  The paintings in Proliferate, Marc Brotherton's solo exhibition at Callanwolde Fine Arts Center Gallery, map both the potential and the limits of an artist's engagement with his medium. All 11 works are executed in acrylics, most augmented with ink. And although a few paintings generate both heat and light, just as many run aground as the materials and technique fall short of their intended target.

In his best paintings, Brotherton channels the dysfunctional clockwork of early 20th-century geometric abstractionist Wassily Kandinsky. The works range from small-scale 20-by-16-inch canvases to medium-size works of about 3 by 4 feet. While the imagery in each painting comprises an abstract accumulation of geometric shapes – half orbs, crystalline structures, faceted triangles and so on – they simultaneously hint at all manner of crazed machines, mechanized little automata, and the weird technology of UFOs in flight.

"Subverter" (2008) is as close to an unqualified success as any work in the show. Like its companion works, "Subverter" is packed with Brotherton's private language of glyphs and schematic ink drawings ensconced in self-contained cells floating in a disarrayed pictorial universe. The painting's nautical art deco motifs explode with the kaleidoscopic psychedelia of Yellow Submarine--era Beatles. The colors are lucid, the surfaces active and clean.

"Subverter" is meticulously detailed – most of its major edges have been rendered hard as with a ruler or masking tape. The work references the history of graphic design as much as it does painting.

Other works, however, fare less well. "Subverter's" precision can't make up for "Nano Activator," which buckles under heavy-handed composition and an unsatisfying use of materials. "Nano Activator's" surfaces are gummy and at times have a distracting foamy, aerated quality.

A sub-school of Atlanta artists has made a career out of walking a tightrope between seeming chaos in composition and an almost neurotic sense of control in execution. Draftsman Alex Kvares comes to mind, as well as painter Matt Relkin, whose gem of a solo show at Young Blood Gallery last summer was rock solid.

Brotherton, however, visits that territory only in fits and starts. When the work gets there, the results are a revelation. When it misses, we're left only with bits and pieces looking for a whole.             13028573 1276359                          Marc Brotherton gets in shape at Callanwolde "
  ["score"]=>
  float(0)
  ["_index"]=>
  string(21) "atlantawiki_tiki_main"
  ["objectlink"]=>
  string(36) "No value for 'contentTitle'"
  ["photos"]=>
  string(130) "Coming Soon

"
  ["desc"]=>
  string(32) "No description provided"
  ["chit_category"]=>
  string(11) "88"
}

Article

Wednesday November 19, 2008 12:04 am EST
The paintings in Proliferate, Marc Brotherton's solo exhibition at Callanwolde Fine Arts Center Gallery, map both the potential and the limits of an artist's engagement with his medium. All 11 works are executed in acrylics, most augmented with ink. And although a few paintings generate both heat and light, just as many run aground as the materials and technique fall short of their intended... | more...
array(77) {
  ["title"]=>
  string(65) "Peter Bahouth illuminates his picture show at Marcia Wood Gallery"
  ["modification_date"]=>
  string(25) "2018-01-20T19:39:04+00:00"
  ["creation_date"]=>
  string(25) "2017-12-29T19:21:41+00:00"
  ["contributors"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(29) "ben.eason@creativeloafing.com"
  }
  ["date"]=>
  string(25) "2008-11-05T05:04:00+00:00"
  ["tracker_status"]=>
  string(1) "o"
  ["tracker_id"]=>
  string(2) "11"
  ["view_permission"]=>
  string(13) "view_trackers"
  ["tracker_field_contentTitle"]=>
  string(65) "Peter Bahouth illuminates his picture show at Marcia Wood Gallery"
  ["tracker_field_contentByline"]=>
  string(12) "Cinque Hicks"
  ["tracker_field_contentByline_exact"]=>
  string(12) "Cinque Hicks"
  ["tracker_field_contentBylinePerson"]=>
  string(6) "146030"
  ["tracker_field_contentBylinePerson_text"]=>
  string(7) "1306447"
  ["tracker_field_contentDate"]=>
  string(25) "2008-11-05T05:04:00+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage"]=>
  string(75) "Content:_:Peter Bahouth illuminates his picture show at Marcia Wood Gallery"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_text"]=>
  string(2497) "Complete the following sentence: The resurgence of the Betty Page pin-up look a) killed feminism faster than Ally McBeal's gigantic eyes and tiny miniskirt, or b) salvaged feminism for a whole new generation that knows how to wield its sexuality like a blowtorch.

Peter Bahouth's Sadie's Choice at Marcia Wood Gallery suggests that the b's have it. Bahouth's latest solo outing comprises a dozen small stereoscopic slide images of mostly young, mostly white female sexuality rendered both available and unobtainable in a single stroke. The images are contained in spindly and slightly anachronistic viewing stands arranged along the gallery walls – think View-Master for grown-ups.

In "Yellow," a young model lies back across a sofa, legs over head, eyes downcast. Her hand drapes lightly over a cello. It's just short of lurid, but unmistakably erotic. "Suds'" model sits in a tub, almost fully engulfed in foamy white bubbles. We mostly see the top of her dyed red hair as her body slips beneath the water's surface in both an invitation and a refusal to be seen. Visual puns abound in the exhibit: Slices of cherry pie, cupcakes and erect microphones all make winking appearances in the artist's self-contained, sex-soaked world.

Bahouth calls the works "collaborations" with his models. Indeed, the title refers to Sadie Hawkins Day, when women are expected to take the lead in courting and dating, reversing the traditional gender dynamic. But whatever control his models may have exercised on the margins, it's clear that Bahouth has set the overall agenda.

Fortunately, he understands his format. The use of small-scale 3-D photography in a viewfinder for, essentially, dirty pictures, stretches back to photography's early days. It's an ideal method for an especially intense and private mode of looking.

Bahouth respects idiosyncratic details – a stack of tattered books, a full martini glass – and can render rich surfaces almost touchable, making an intense gaze worth the effort. Each jewel-like photograph offers a tiny burst of retinal pleasure. Objects invariably shine, glitter or glow warmly. The details of hair, foliage and fabric stand out with a crispness and contrast that has all but vanished from most contemporary portraiture.

In this photographiest of seasons, Atlanta offers more than enough large-scale photographs to go around. The works in Sadie's Choice provide a welcome contrast, looming as large in the mind's eye as they are small in the gallery.

 "
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_raw"]=>
  string(2505) "Complete the following sentence: The resurgence of the Betty Page pin-up look a) killed feminism faster than Ally McBeal's gigantic eyes and tiny miniskirt, or b) salvaged feminism for a whole new generation that knows how to wield its sexuality like a blowtorch.

Peter Bahouth's ''Sadie's Choice'' at Marcia Wood Gallery suggests that the b's have it. Bahouth's latest solo outing comprises a dozen small stereoscopic slide images of mostly young, mostly white female sexuality rendered both available and unobtainable in a single stroke. The images are contained in spindly and slightly anachronistic viewing stands arranged along the gallery walls – think View-Master for grown-ups.

In "Yellow," a young model lies back across a sofa, legs over head, eyes downcast. Her hand drapes lightly over a cello. It's just short of lurid, but unmistakably erotic. "Suds'" model sits in a tub, almost fully engulfed in foamy white bubbles. We mostly see the top of her dyed red hair as her body slips beneath the water's surface in both an invitation and a refusal to be seen. Visual puns abound in the exhibit: Slices of cherry pie, cupcakes and erect microphones all make winking appearances in the artist's self-contained, sex-soaked world.

Bahouth calls the works "collaborations" with his models. Indeed, the title refers to Sadie Hawkins Day, when women are expected to take the lead in courting and dating, reversing the traditional gender dynamic. But whatever control his models may have exercised on the margins, it's clear that Bahouth has set the overall agenda.

Fortunately, he understands his format. The use of small-scale 3-D photography in a viewfinder for, essentially, dirty pictures, stretches back to photography's early days. It's an ideal method for an especially intense and private mode of looking.

Bahouth respects idiosyncratic details – a stack of tattered books, a full martini glass – and can render rich surfaces almost touchable, making an intense gaze worth the effort. Each jewel-like photograph offers a tiny burst of retinal pleasure. Objects invariably shine, glitter or glow warmly. The details of hair, foliage and fabric stand out with a crispness and contrast that has all but vanished from most contemporary portraiture.

In this photographiest of seasons, Atlanta offers more than enough large-scale photographs to go around. The works in ''Sadie's Choice'' provide a welcome contrast, looming as large in the mind's eye as they are small in the gallery.

 "
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_creation_date"]=>
  string(25) "2018-01-20T19:39:04+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_modification_date"]=>
  string(25) "2018-01-20T19:39:04+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(3) "631"
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory_text"]=>
  string(3) "631"
  ["tracker_field_contentControlCategory"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_scene"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentNeighborhood"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelations_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelatedContent_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelatedWikiPages_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentBASEContentID"]=>
  string(8) "13028490"
  ["tracker_field_contentLegacyContentID"]=>
  string(7) "1276125"
  ["tracker_field_contentBASEAuthorID"]=>
  int(0)
  ["tracker_field_section"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["language"]=>
  string(7) "unknown"
  ["attachments"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["comment_count"]=>
  int(0)
  ["categories"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    int(581)
  }
  ["deep_categories"]=>
  array(3) {
    [0]=>
    int(242)
    [1]=>
    int(244)
    [2]=>
    int(581)
  }
  ["categories_under_28"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_28"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_1"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_1"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_177"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_177"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_209"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_209"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_163"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_163"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_171"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_171"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_153"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_153"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_242"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_242"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    int(244)
    [1]=>
    int(581)
  }
  ["categories_under_564"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_564"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_1182"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_1182"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["freetags"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["geo_located"]=>
  string(1) "n"
  ["allowed_groups"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(6) "Admins"
    [1]=>
    string(9) "Anonymous"
  }
  ["allowed_users"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relations"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relation_objects"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relation_types"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relation_count"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["title_initial"]=>
  string(1) "P"
  ["title_firstword"]=>
  string(5) "Peter"
  ["searchable"]=>
  string(1) "y"
  ["url"]=>
  string(10) "item180112"
  ["object_type"]=>
  string(11) "trackeritem"
  ["object_id"]=>
  string(6) "180112"
  ["contents"]=>
  string(2767) "       2008-11-05T05:04:00+00:00 Peter Bahouth illuminates his picture show at Marcia Wood Gallery   Cinque Hicks 1306447 2008-11-05T05:04:00+00:00  Complete the following sentence: The resurgence of the Betty Page pin-up look a) killed feminism faster than Ally McBeal's gigantic eyes and tiny miniskirt, or b) salvaged feminism for a whole new generation that knows how to wield its sexuality like a blowtorch.

Peter Bahouth's Sadie's Choice at Marcia Wood Gallery suggests that the b's have it. Bahouth's latest solo outing comprises a dozen small stereoscopic slide images of mostly young, mostly white female sexuality rendered both available and unobtainable in a single stroke. The images are contained in spindly and slightly anachronistic viewing stands arranged along the gallery walls – think View-Master for grown-ups.

In "Yellow," a young model lies back across a sofa, legs over head, eyes downcast. Her hand drapes lightly over a cello. It's just short of lurid, but unmistakably erotic. "Suds'" model sits in a tub, almost fully engulfed in foamy white bubbles. We mostly see the top of her dyed red hair as her body slips beneath the water's surface in both an invitation and a refusal to be seen. Visual puns abound in the exhibit: Slices of cherry pie, cupcakes and erect microphones all make winking appearances in the artist's self-contained, sex-soaked world.

Bahouth calls the works "collaborations" with his models. Indeed, the title refers to Sadie Hawkins Day, when women are expected to take the lead in courting and dating, reversing the traditional gender dynamic. But whatever control his models may have exercised on the margins, it's clear that Bahouth has set the overall agenda.

Fortunately, he understands his format. The use of small-scale 3-D photography in a viewfinder for, essentially, dirty pictures, stretches back to photography's early days. It's an ideal method for an especially intense and private mode of looking.

Bahouth respects idiosyncratic details – a stack of tattered books, a full martini glass – and can render rich surfaces almost touchable, making an intense gaze worth the effort. Each jewel-like photograph offers a tiny burst of retinal pleasure. Objects invariably shine, glitter or glow warmly. The details of hair, foliage and fabric stand out with a crispness and contrast that has all but vanished from most contemporary portraiture.

In this photographiest of seasons, Atlanta offers more than enough large-scale photographs to go around. The works in Sadie's Choice provide a welcome contrast, looming as large in the mind's eye as they are small in the gallery.

              13028490 1276125                          Peter Bahouth illuminates his picture show at Marcia Wood Gallery "
  ["score"]=>
  float(0)
  ["_index"]=>
  string(21) "atlantawiki_tiki_main"
  ["objectlink"]=>
  string(36) "No value for 'contentTitle'"
  ["photos"]=>
  string(130) "Coming Soon

"
  ["desc"]=>
  string(32) "No description provided"
  ["chit_category"]=>
  string(11) "88"
}

Article

Wednesday November 5, 2008 12:04 am EST

Complete the following sentence: The resurgence of the Betty Page pin-up look a) killed feminism faster than Ally McBeal's gigantic eyes and tiny miniskirt, or b) salvaged feminism for a whole new generation that knows how to wield its sexuality like a blowtorch.

Peter Bahouth's Sadie's Choice at Marcia Wood Gallery suggests that the b's have it. Bahouth's latest solo outing comprises a dozen...

| more...
array(77) {
  ["title"]=>
  string(45) "Le Flash sheds light on public art in Atlanta"
  ["modification_date"]=>
  string(25) "2018-01-20T19:39:04+00:00"
  ["creation_date"]=>
  string(25) "2017-12-29T19:21:41+00:00"
  ["contributors"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(29) "ben.eason@creativeloafing.com"
  }
  ["date"]=>
  string(25) "2008-10-22T04:04:00+00:00"
  ["tracker_status"]=>
  string(1) "o"
  ["tracker_id"]=>
  string(2) "11"
  ["view_permission"]=>
  string(13) "view_trackers"
  ["tracker_field_contentTitle"]=>
  string(45) "Le Flash sheds light on public art in Atlanta"
  ["tracker_field_contentByline"]=>
  string(12) "Cinque Hicks"
  ["tracker_field_contentByline_exact"]=>
  string(12) "Cinque Hicks"
  ["tracker_field_contentBylinePerson"]=>
  string(6) "146030"
  ["tracker_field_contentBylinePerson_text"]=>
  string(7) "1306447"
  ["tracker_field_contentDate"]=>
  string(25) "2008-10-22T04:04:00+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage"]=>
  string(55) "Content:_:Le Flash sheds light on public art in Atlanta"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_text"]=>
  string(5229) "If you head out to Castleberry Hill the evening of Oct. 24, beware: You may get mobbed. A nomadic band of paparazzi photographers may accost you, detonate flashbulbs in your face, stick microphones at you and then turn suddenly to swarm the next unsuspecting noncelebrity.

If you're fortunate enough to be caught in the melee, then you've stumbled into "Paparazzi Flash Mob," a work of guerilla street theater by artist Trey Burns. The piece is one of more than 40 art projects that comprise Le Flash, an evening of light-based public and performance art that aims to engulf Castleberry Hill all Friday night and leave its impression on the neighborhood for days, and perhaps years, to come.

Cathy Byrd and Stuart Keeler have been organizing and curating the event since this past summer. The pair is so energized, it's hard to get a question in while sitting at the grunge-chic Tilt Coffee Shop on Walker Street. Byrd, the director of the Welch Gallery at GSU, describes the Le Flash ethos between sips of coffee: "A lot of people don't even know what public art is," she says, "and by animating it in a very physical, glowing way, we're introducing people to the idea that public art doesn't have to be just a stationary piece. It can be temporary. It can be about energy and light and life."

Keeler, an artist and SCAD professor, chimes in, citing Atlanta's untapped visual art talent. "There's a hunger to do things," says Keeler. He's hoping Le Flash helps fill that need.

Le Flash was born at Tilt over the summer as Byrd and Keeler sat wondering what they could do to continue enlivening Atlanta's art scene. Drawing on the pair's extensive travel experience, they hit upon the French Nuit Blanche celebration as a potential model. Nuit Blanche (French for "all-nighter") began as an annual citywide art festival in Paris in 2002. It's since spawned numerous copies in places such as Madrid, Tel Aviv and, perhaps most notably, Toronto, where the festival brings in more than a million visitors to the downtown area.

Byrd considers the Atlanta edition a kind of demonstration project. "We're modeling the concept, the possibilities," she says of the entirely self-funded endeavor. "We're thinking of this as a challenge to Atlanta: 'Let's do this again, let's do it bigger.'"

Anyone paying attention to Atlanta's public art scene knows what a significant challenge that is. Public art has had more than its share of tragedies, triumphs and enough drama to satisfy a touring company of Othello. While some individual major public works have flourished, temporary public art festivals have a sketchier history. Some have started and then abruptly stopped, or stopped even before they began despite much fanfare and bombast.

Byrd and Keeler, however, have a track record of pulling together broad coalitions in order to realize multi-venue art events. Within the last year, Byrd spearheaded Re/constructing Atlanta, which examined urban design at a number of outlets throughout the city, while Keeler organized and curated A (new) Genre Landscape, which brought together 18 artists in interventions at 12 of Atlanta's public parks.

Together, Byrd and Keeler hope Le Flash becomes a vehicle for citizens to interact with the Castleberry Hill area in a new way. One of the event's marquee works is Kristina Solomoukha's "Mind the Gap – Fountain" to be installed and displayed at Cleopas R. Johnson Park, situated across Northside Drive and the gallery district. The temporary fountain – a red pickup truck spouting recycled water in an inflatable swimming pool – is designed to activate the park. It's also intended to draw gallery-goers across Northside Drive and deeper into a community that some never experience. Keeler describes this social separation as a typically Atlantan phenomenon: "The park is part of the neighborhood but not part of the neighborhood," he says. "It's an Atlanta thing where things are connected, but not connected."

"Northside Drive is a psychic divide," Byrd adds, "like a river that people don't cross."

It comes as no surprise that exploring neighborhoods is difficult in a city that's been ravaged by racial animosities and brutalized by generations of shortsighted developers with little sense of the importance of public space. But Le Flash's curators and their team of more than 100 volunteers hope that the work around the park, as well as the work filtering into the gallery district, can be an entrée to bridging these cloven neighborhoods.

Artist Gyun Hur, a volunteer assistant and transplant from Korea, credits her months-long involvement in Le Flash with helping her get to know a neighborhood she might never have explored otherwise. "I really wasn't aware of the community itself," she says, "or its relationship with the John Hope community, or its relationship with Spelman or Morehouse. Now I'm a lot more aware."

Keeler and Byrd both want that kind of learning and artistic opportunity to continue. When asked what would have to happen to make that a reality, Keeler responds without hesitation: "The Atlanta Convention and Visitors Bureau and the Chamber of Commerce would have to come forward and support it, because that's where the chunks of money are.""
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_raw"]=>
  string(5482) "If you head out to Castleberry Hill the evening of Oct. 24, beware: You may get mobbed. A nomadic band of paparazzi photographers may accost you, detonate flashbulbs in your face, stick microphones at you and then turn suddenly to swarm the next unsuspecting noncelebrity.

If you're fortunate enough to be caught in the melee, then you've stumbled into "Paparazzi Flash Mob," a work of guerilla street theater by artist Trey Burns. The piece is one of more than 40 art projects that comprise ''Le Flash'', an evening of light-based public and performance art that aims to engulf Castleberry Hill all Friday night and leave its impression on the neighborhood for days, and perhaps years, to come.

Cathy Byrd and Stuart Keeler have been organizing and curating the event since this past summer. The pair is so energized, it's hard to get a question in while sitting at the grunge-chic Tilt Coffee Shop on Walker Street. Byrd, the director of the Welch Gallery at GSU, describes the ''Le Flash'' ethos between sips of coffee: "A lot of people don't even know what public art is," she says, "and by animating it in a very physical, glowing way, we're introducing people to the idea that public art doesn't have to be just a stationary piece. It can be temporary. It can be about energy and light and life."

Keeler, an artist and SCAD professor, chimes in, citing Atlanta's untapped visual art talent. "There's a hunger to do things," says Keeler. He's hoping ''Le Flash'' helps fill that need.

''Le Flash'' was born at Tilt over the summer as Byrd and Keeler sat wondering what they could do to continue enlivening Atlanta's art scene. Drawing on the pair's extensive travel experience, they hit upon the French ''Nuit Blanche'' celebration as a potential model. ''Nuit Blanche'' (French for "all-nighter") began as an annual citywide art festival in Paris in 2002. It's since spawned numerous copies in places such as Madrid, Tel Aviv and, perhaps most notably, Toronto, where the festival brings in more than a million visitors to the downtown area.

Byrd considers the Atlanta edition a kind of demonstration project. "We're modeling the concept, the possibilities," she says of the entirely self-funded endeavor. "We're thinking of this as a challenge to Atlanta: 'Let's do this again, let's do it bigger.'"

Anyone paying attention to Atlanta's public art scene knows what a significant challenge that is. Public art has had more than its share of tragedies, triumphs and enough drama to satisfy a touring company of ''Othello''. While some individual major public works have flourished, temporary public art festivals have a sketchier history. Some have started and then abruptly stopped, or stopped even before they began despite much fanfare and bombast.

Byrd and Keeler, however, have a track record of pulling together broad coalitions in order to realize multi-venue art events. Within the last year, Byrd spearheaded [http://atlanta.creativeloafing.com/gyrobase/art_urban_intervention_the_beltline/Content?oid=390584|''Re/constructing Atlanta''], which examined urban design at a number of outlets throughout the city, while Keeler organized and curated [http://atlanta.creativeloafing.com/gyrobase/a_new_genre_landscape_artsy_parksy/Content?oid=492966|''A (new) Genre Landscape''], which brought together 18 artists in interventions at 12 of Atlanta's public parks.

Together, Byrd and Keeler hope ''Le Flash'' becomes a vehicle for citizens to interact with the Castleberry Hill area in a new way. One of the event's marquee works is Kristina Solomoukha's "Mind the Gap – Fountain" to be installed and displayed at Cleopas R. Johnson Park, situated across Northside Drive and the gallery district. The temporary fountain – a red pickup truck spouting recycled water in an inflatable swimming pool – is designed to activate the park. It's also intended to draw gallery-goers across Northside Drive and deeper into a community that some never experience. Keeler describes this social separation as a typically Atlantan phenomenon: "[The park] is part of the neighborhood but not part of the neighborhood," he says. "It's an Atlanta thing where things are connected, but not connected."

"Northside Drive is a psychic divide," Byrd adds, "like a river that people don't cross."

It comes as no surprise that exploring neighborhoods is difficult in a city that's been ravaged by racial animosities and brutalized by generations of shortsighted developers with little sense of the importance of public space. But ''Le Flash'''s curators and their team of more than 100 volunteers hope that the work around the park, as well as the work filtering into the gallery district, can be an entrée to bridging these cloven neighborhoods.

Artist Gyun Hur, a volunteer assistant and transplant from Korea, credits her months-long involvement in ''Le Flash'' with helping her get to know a neighborhood she might never have explored otherwise. "I really wasn't aware of the community itself," she says, "or its relationship with the John Hope community, or its relationship with Spelman or Morehouse. Now I'm a lot more aware."

Keeler and Byrd both want that kind of learning and artistic opportunity to continue. When asked what would have to happen to make that a reality, Keeler responds without hesitation: "The Atlanta [Convention and Visitors] Bureau and the Chamber of Commerce would have to come forward and support it, because that's where the chunks of money are.""
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_creation_date"]=>
  string(25) "2018-01-20T19:39:04+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_modification_date"]=>
  string(25) "2018-01-20T19:39:04+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(3) "631"
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory_text"]=>
  string(3) "631"
  ["tracker_field_contentControlCategory"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_scene"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentNeighborhood"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelations_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelatedContent_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelatedWikiPages_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentBASEContentID"]=>
  string(8) "13028400"
  ["tracker_field_contentLegacyContentID"]=>
  string(7) "1275935"
  ["tracker_field_contentBASEAuthorID"]=>
  int(0)
  ["tracker_field_section"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["language"]=>
  string(7) "unknown"
  ["attachments"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["comment_count"]=>
  int(0)
  ["categories"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    int(581)
  }
  ["deep_categories"]=>
  array(3) {
    [0]=>
    int(242)
    [1]=>
    int(244)
    [2]=>
    int(581)
  }
  ["categories_under_28"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_28"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_1"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_1"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_177"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_177"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_209"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_209"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_163"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_163"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_171"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_171"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_153"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_153"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_242"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_242"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    int(244)
    [1]=>
    int(581)
  }
  ["categories_under_564"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_564"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_1182"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_1182"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["freetags"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["geo_located"]=>
  string(1) "n"
  ["allowed_groups"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(6) "Admins"
    [1]=>
    string(9) "Anonymous"
  }
  ["allowed_users"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relations"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relation_objects"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relation_types"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relation_count"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["title_initial"]=>
  string(1) "L"
  ["title_firstword"]=>
  string(2) "Le"
  ["searchable"]=>
  string(1) "y"
  ["url"]=>
  string(10) "item180111"
  ["object_type"]=>
  string(11) "trackeritem"
  ["object_id"]=>
  string(6) "180111"
  ["contents"]=>
  string(5459) "       2008-10-22T04:04:00+00:00 Le Flash sheds light on public art in Atlanta   Cinque Hicks 1306447 2008-10-22T04:04:00+00:00  If you head out to Castleberry Hill the evening of Oct. 24, beware: You may get mobbed. A nomadic band of paparazzi photographers may accost you, detonate flashbulbs in your face, stick microphones at you and then turn suddenly to swarm the next unsuspecting noncelebrity.

If you're fortunate enough to be caught in the melee, then you've stumbled into "Paparazzi Flash Mob," a work of guerilla street theater by artist Trey Burns. The piece is one of more than 40 art projects that comprise Le Flash, an evening of light-based public and performance art that aims to engulf Castleberry Hill all Friday night and leave its impression on the neighborhood for days, and perhaps years, to come.

Cathy Byrd and Stuart Keeler have been organizing and curating the event since this past summer. The pair is so energized, it's hard to get a question in while sitting at the grunge-chic Tilt Coffee Shop on Walker Street. Byrd, the director of the Welch Gallery at GSU, describes the Le Flash ethos between sips of coffee: "A lot of people don't even know what public art is," she says, "and by animating it in a very physical, glowing way, we're introducing people to the idea that public art doesn't have to be just a stationary piece. It can be temporary. It can be about energy and light and life."

Keeler, an artist and SCAD professor, chimes in, citing Atlanta's untapped visual art talent. "There's a hunger to do things," says Keeler. He's hoping Le Flash helps fill that need.

Le Flash was born at Tilt over the summer as Byrd and Keeler sat wondering what they could do to continue enlivening Atlanta's art scene. Drawing on the pair's extensive travel experience, they hit upon the French Nuit Blanche celebration as a potential model. Nuit Blanche (French for "all-nighter") began as an annual citywide art festival in Paris in 2002. It's since spawned numerous copies in places such as Madrid, Tel Aviv and, perhaps most notably, Toronto, where the festival brings in more than a million visitors to the downtown area.

Byrd considers the Atlanta edition a kind of demonstration project. "We're modeling the concept, the possibilities," she says of the entirely self-funded endeavor. "We're thinking of this as a challenge to Atlanta: 'Let's do this again, let's do it bigger.'"

Anyone paying attention to Atlanta's public art scene knows what a significant challenge that is. Public art has had more than its share of tragedies, triumphs and enough drama to satisfy a touring company of Othello. While some individual major public works have flourished, temporary public art festivals have a sketchier history. Some have started and then abruptly stopped, or stopped even before they began despite much fanfare and bombast.

Byrd and Keeler, however, have a track record of pulling together broad coalitions in order to realize multi-venue art events. Within the last year, Byrd spearheaded Re/constructing Atlanta, which examined urban design at a number of outlets throughout the city, while Keeler organized and curated A (new) Genre Landscape, which brought together 18 artists in interventions at 12 of Atlanta's public parks.

Together, Byrd and Keeler hope Le Flash becomes a vehicle for citizens to interact with the Castleberry Hill area in a new way. One of the event's marquee works is Kristina Solomoukha's "Mind the Gap – Fountain" to be installed and displayed at Cleopas R. Johnson Park, situated across Northside Drive and the gallery district. The temporary fountain – a red pickup truck spouting recycled water in an inflatable swimming pool – is designed to activate the park. It's also intended to draw gallery-goers across Northside Drive and deeper into a community that some never experience. Keeler describes this social separation as a typically Atlantan phenomenon: "The park is part of the neighborhood but not part of the neighborhood," he says. "It's an Atlanta thing where things are connected, but not connected."

"Northside Drive is a psychic divide," Byrd adds, "like a river that people don't cross."

It comes as no surprise that exploring neighborhoods is difficult in a city that's been ravaged by racial animosities and brutalized by generations of shortsighted developers with little sense of the importance of public space. But Le Flash's curators and their team of more than 100 volunteers hope that the work around the park, as well as the work filtering into the gallery district, can be an entrée to bridging these cloven neighborhoods.

Artist Gyun Hur, a volunteer assistant and transplant from Korea, credits her months-long involvement in Le Flash with helping her get to know a neighborhood she might never have explored otherwise. "I really wasn't aware of the community itself," she says, "or its relationship with the John Hope community, or its relationship with Spelman or Morehouse. Now I'm a lot more aware."

Keeler and Byrd both want that kind of learning and artistic opportunity to continue. When asked what would have to happen to make that a reality, Keeler responds without hesitation: "The Atlanta Convention and Visitors Bureau and the Chamber of Commerce would have to come forward and support it, because that's where the chunks of money are."             13028400 1275935                          Le Flash sheds light on public art in Atlanta "
  ["score"]=>
  float(0)
  ["_index"]=>
  string(21) "atlantawiki_tiki_main"
  ["objectlink"]=>
  string(36) "No value for 'contentTitle'"
  ["photos"]=>
  string(130) "Coming Soon

"
  ["desc"]=>
  string(32) "No description provided"
  ["chit_category"]=>
  string(11) "88"
}

Article

Wednesday October 22, 2008 12:04 am EDT

If you head out to Castleberry Hill the evening of Oct. 24, beware: You may get mobbed. A nomadic band of paparazzi photographers may accost you, detonate flashbulbs in your face, stick microphones at you and then turn suddenly to swarm the next unsuspecting noncelebrity.

If you're fortunate enough to be caught in the melee, then you've stumbled into "Paparazzi Flash Mob," a work of guerilla...

| more...
array(77) {
  ["title"]=>
  string(83) "Danielle Roney explores virtual realities in Genesis Trial: Johannesburg at MOCA GA"
  ["modification_date"]=>
  string(25) "2018-01-20T19:39:04+00:00"
  ["creation_date"]=>
  string(25) "2017-12-29T19:21:41+00:00"
  ["contributors"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(29) "ben.eason@creativeloafing.com"
  }
  ["date"]=>
  string(25) "2008-10-15T04:04:00+00:00"
  ["tracker_status"]=>
  string(1) "o"
  ["tracker_id"]=>
  string(2) "11"
  ["view_permission"]=>
  string(13) "view_trackers"
  ["tracker_field_contentTitle"]=>
  string(83) "Danielle Roney explores virtual realities in Genesis Trial: Johannesburg at MOCA GA"
  ["tracker_field_contentByline"]=>
  string(12) "Cinque Hicks"
  ["tracker_field_contentByline_exact"]=>
  string(12) "Cinque Hicks"
  ["tracker_field_contentBylinePerson"]=>
  string(6) "146030"
  ["tracker_field_contentBylinePerson_text"]=>
  string(7) "1306447"
  ["tracker_field_contentDate"]=>
  string(25) "2008-10-15T04:04:00+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage"]=>
  string(93) "Content:_:Danielle Roney explores virtual realities in Genesis Trial: Johannesburg at MOCA GA"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_text"]=>
  string(2512) "Brian Eno, one of electronic music's leading lights, famously excoriated computers in a 1995 interview with Wired magazine: "The problem with computers," said Eno, "is that there is not enough Africa in them." Mr. Eno, meet Danielle Roney.

Roney's Genesis Trial: Johannesburg at MOCA GA is a wide-ranging collection of installations that includes video, digital imagery, sound and large-scale sculpture. The exhibit occupies three of the museum's still-new gallery spaces and mines the imagery of the artist's personal engagement with South Africa. While the works may not put Africa in the machine, they certainly let us see how the machine might look from the continent's point of view and vice versa.

"eGoli" comprises a trio of bowed screens hung at imposing and dramatic angles in the museum's largest space. A multimedia tour through fantasy landscapes, "eGoli" digitizes the African veldt and mainlines exurban Johannesburg's dilapidated townships into the central vein of a cyber-enabled future. The sweeping views channel Salvador Dalí's Xbox and Stanley Kubrick's Play-Doh.

Other works, though less obviously computer-based, are equally engaged in our global era's dominant technologies. The simple video installation "Westcliff Hotel" follows a black maid seemingly unaware of being watched as she cleans a hotel room. In the video, a mirror at the end of the bed reflects a pair of legs – presumably the cameraperson's – and the room's floor plan has been laid out in tape on the ground below the projection. Roney, who's white, places both the viewer and herself as the artist into the room with these details, forcing an uneasy post-Apartheid intimacy.

Massive ambition has been Roney's calling card – at least since the inception of her Global Portals project in 2005. Her resource-intensive work often requires production in the extreme, and few facilities in the city can accommodate the physical breadth required to make the work resonate. As the culmination of its Working Artists Project, however, MOCA GA has shown that its investment in Roney was a smart bet.

Like the sprawling, messy megalopolises to which the artist is drawn in her work – São Paolo, Beijing, Johannesburg – Genesis Trial moves freely across media forms via its own crazed logic. You can often count on this kind of cross-disciplinary free-for-all to go embarrassingly wrong. In Roney's hands, however, it's evidence of a maturing artist voraciously curious about her place in art history and the world."
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_raw"]=>
  string(2528) "Brian Eno, one of electronic music's leading lights, famously excoriated computers in a 1995 interview with ''Wired'' magazine: "The problem with computers," said Eno, "is that there is not enough Africa in them." Mr. Eno, meet Danielle Roney.

Roney's ''Genesis Trial: Johannesburg'' at MOCA GA is a wide-ranging collection of installations that includes video, digital imagery, sound and large-scale sculpture. The exhibit occupies three of the museum's still-new gallery spaces and mines the imagery of the artist's personal engagement with South Africa. While the works may not put Africa in the machine, they certainly let us see how the machine might look from the continent's point of view and vice versa.

"eGoli" comprises a trio of bowed screens hung at imposing and dramatic angles in the museum's largest space. A multimedia tour through fantasy landscapes, "eGoli" digitizes the African veldt and mainlines exurban Johannesburg's dilapidated townships into the central vein of a cyber-enabled future. The sweeping views channel Salvador Dalí's Xbox and Stanley Kubrick's Play-Doh.

Other works, though less obviously computer-based, are equally engaged in our global era's dominant technologies. The simple video installation "Westcliff Hotel" follows a black maid seemingly unaware of being watched as she cleans a hotel room. In the video, a mirror at the end of the bed reflects a pair of legs – presumably the cameraperson's – and the room's floor plan has been laid out in tape on the ground below the projection. Roney, who's white, places both the viewer and herself as the artist into the room with these details, forcing an uneasy post-Apartheid intimacy.

Massive ambition has been Roney's calling card – at least since the inception of her ''Global Portals'' project in 2005. Her resource-intensive work often requires production in the extreme, and few facilities in the city can accommodate the physical breadth required to make the work resonate. As the culmination of its Working Artists Project, however, MOCA GA has shown that its investment in Roney was a smart bet.

Like the sprawling, messy megalopolises to which the artist is drawn in her work – São Paolo, Beijing, Johannesburg – ''Genesis Trial'' moves freely across media forms via its own crazed logic. You can often count on this kind of cross-disciplinary free-for-all to go embarrassingly wrong. In Roney's hands, however, it's evidence of a maturing artist voraciously curious about her place in art history and the world."
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_creation_date"]=>
  string(25) "2018-01-20T19:39:04+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_modification_date"]=>
  string(25) "2018-01-20T19:39:04+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(3) "631"
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory_text"]=>
  string(3) "631"
  ["tracker_field_contentControlCategory"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_scene"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentNeighborhood"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelations_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelatedContent_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelatedWikiPages_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentBASEContentID"]=>
  string(8) "13028371"
  ["tracker_field_contentLegacyContentID"]=>
  string(7) "1275878"
  ["tracker_field_contentBASEAuthorID"]=>
  int(0)
  ["tracker_field_section"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["language"]=>
  string(7) "unknown"
  ["attachments"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["comment_count"]=>
  int(0)
  ["categories"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    int(581)
  }
  ["deep_categories"]=>
  array(3) {
    [0]=>
    int(242)
    [1]=>
    int(244)
    [2]=>
    int(581)
  }
  ["categories_under_28"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_28"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_1"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_1"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_177"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_177"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_209"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_209"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_163"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_163"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_171"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_171"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_153"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_153"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_242"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_242"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    int(244)
    [1]=>
    int(581)
  }
  ["categories_under_564"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_564"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_1182"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_1182"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["freetags"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["geo_located"]=>
  string(1) "n"
  ["allowed_groups"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(6) "Admins"
    [1]=>
    string(9) "Anonymous"
  }
  ["allowed_users"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relations"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relation_objects"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relation_types"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relation_count"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["title_initial"]=>
  string(1) "D"
  ["title_firstword"]=>
  string(8) "Danielle"
  ["searchable"]=>
  string(1) "y"
  ["url"]=>
  string(10) "item180110"
  ["object_type"]=>
  string(11) "trackeritem"
  ["object_id"]=>
  string(6) "180110"
  ["contents"]=>
  string(2818) "       2008-10-15T04:04:00+00:00 Danielle Roney explores virtual realities in Genesis Trial: Johannesburg at MOCA GA   Cinque Hicks 1306447 2008-10-15T04:04:00+00:00  Brian Eno, one of electronic music's leading lights, famously excoriated computers in a 1995 interview with Wired magazine: "The problem with computers," said Eno, "is that there is not enough Africa in them." Mr. Eno, meet Danielle Roney.

Roney's Genesis Trial: Johannesburg at MOCA GA is a wide-ranging collection of installations that includes video, digital imagery, sound and large-scale sculpture. The exhibit occupies three of the museum's still-new gallery spaces and mines the imagery of the artist's personal engagement with South Africa. While the works may not put Africa in the machine, they certainly let us see how the machine might look from the continent's point of view and vice versa.

"eGoli" comprises a trio of bowed screens hung at imposing and dramatic angles in the museum's largest space. A multimedia tour through fantasy landscapes, "eGoli" digitizes the African veldt and mainlines exurban Johannesburg's dilapidated townships into the central vein of a cyber-enabled future. The sweeping views channel Salvador Dalí's Xbox and Stanley Kubrick's Play-Doh.

Other works, though less obviously computer-based, are equally engaged in our global era's dominant technologies. The simple video installation "Westcliff Hotel" follows a black maid seemingly unaware of being watched as she cleans a hotel room. In the video, a mirror at the end of the bed reflects a pair of legs – presumably the cameraperson's – and the room's floor plan has been laid out in tape on the ground below the projection. Roney, who's white, places both the viewer and herself as the artist into the room with these details, forcing an uneasy post-Apartheid intimacy.

Massive ambition has been Roney's calling card – at least since the inception of her Global Portals project in 2005. Her resource-intensive work often requires production in the extreme, and few facilities in the city can accommodate the physical breadth required to make the work resonate. As the culmination of its Working Artists Project, however, MOCA GA has shown that its investment in Roney was a smart bet.

Like the sprawling, messy megalopolises to which the artist is drawn in her work – São Paolo, Beijing, Johannesburg – Genesis Trial moves freely across media forms via its own crazed logic. You can often count on this kind of cross-disciplinary free-for-all to go embarrassingly wrong. In Roney's hands, however, it's evidence of a maturing artist voraciously curious about her place in art history and the world.             13028371 1275878                          Danielle Roney explores virtual realities in Genesis Trial: Johannesburg at MOCA GA "
  ["score"]=>
  float(0)
  ["_index"]=>
  string(21) "atlantawiki_tiki_main"
  ["objectlink"]=>
  string(36) "No value for 'contentTitle'"
  ["photos"]=>
  string(130) "Coming Soon

"
  ["desc"]=>
  string(32) "No description provided"
  ["chit_category"]=>
  string(11) "88"
}

Article

Wednesday October 15, 2008 12:04 am EDT

Brian Eno, one of electronic music's leading lights, famously excoriated computers in a 1995 interview with Wired magazine: "The problem with computers," said Eno, "is that there is not enough Africa in them." Mr. Eno, meet Danielle Roney.

Roney's Genesis Trial: Johannesburg at MOCA GA is a wide-ranging collection of installations that includes video, digital imagery, sound and large-scale...

| more...
array(77) {
  ["title"]=>
  string(67) "Dreaming of an Island makes waves at the Spelman Museum of Fine Art"
  ["modification_date"]=>
  string(25) "2018-01-20T19:39:04+00:00"
  ["creation_date"]=>
  string(25) "2017-12-29T19:21:41+00:00"
  ["contributors"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(29) "ben.eason@creativeloafing.com"
  }
  ["date"]=>
  string(25) "2008-10-08T04:04:00+00:00"
  ["tracker_status"]=>
  string(1) "o"
  ["tracker_id"]=>
  string(2) "11"
  ["view_permission"]=>
  string(13) "view_trackers"
  ["tracker_field_contentTitle"]=>
  string(67) "Dreaming of an Island makes waves at the Spelman Museum of Fine Art"
  ["tracker_field_contentByline"]=>
  string(12) "Cinque Hicks"
  ["tracker_field_contentByline_exact"]=>
  string(12) "Cinque Hicks"
  ["tracker_field_contentBylinePerson"]=>
  string(6) "146030"
  ["tracker_field_contentBylinePerson_text"]=>
  string(7) "1306447"
  ["tracker_field_contentDate"]=>
  string(25) "2008-10-08T04:04:00+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage"]=>
  string(77) "Content:_:Dreaming of an Island makes waves at the Spelman Museum of Fine Art"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_text"]=>
  string(4931) "Artist María Magdalena Campos-Pons lets you know exactly where she stands the moment you set foot in the Spelman College Museum of Fine Art. The following epigram is inscribed near the museum's entrance: "Six things are difficult in this world: to be a woman; to be black; to be Cuban; to believe in love; to believe in people; and the possibility that the world can be better."

Message received. María Magdalena Campos-Pons: Dreaming of an Island, the artist's first solo exhibition in Georgia, doesn't shy away from race and gender politics. Instead, she places them resolutely at the center of her vision. Through mediums ranging from photography to video to installation, Campos-Pons explores themes of cultural displacement and the meaning of her female Afro-Cuban identity in the 21st century.

Oversized ironing boards stand upright like monoliths in a semi-circle in the installation "Spoken Softly With Mama, II." Images of the artist and of women in her family many generations back are projected and printed on the boards.

The women sit and stand with unremarkable attitudes that nevertheless betoken grace and endurance under hardships. On the floor, two dozen glass irons form a mandala at the focal point of the boards, balancing the photographs' ethereal, weightless qualities with the sculptural element's heavy solidity.

"Spoken Softly With Mama, II" unashamedly thrusts work and race, femininity and the forces of history into a single spatial continuum.

The irons are breakable and the boards are upright. That such utilitarian items have been made useless points in two directions at once: toward the entrapment of female labor and toward the hope that it be transformed into something transcendent and spiritual.

Meanwhile, the room-sized "The Herbalist's Tools" transforms its space simultaneously into a laboratory, a garden and an apothecary's shop. Loosely painted vegetation crowds the green walls while a collection of lemongrass, cinnamon, rosemary and other herbs sits on small stools scattered throughout the space. What keeps it all from being merely an exercise in botany is the series of chimney-like structures with open vessels at their feet. Inscribed with Spanish and Yoruba, they seem to be waiting for the herbalist's hand but also offering themselves to unseen forces above.

Campos-Pons' stock in trade is the large-format Polaroid photograph, with which the artist began working two decades ago while studying at the Massachusetts College of Art. The show's nine major Polaroid works form the backbone of the exhibition. "Classic Creole," a single image broken into three vertically stacked panels, shows a body wrapped head-to-toe in a brightly patterned fabric. The stacked framing device creates a totem of a female body that both enlivens and is trapped by the cultural symbols that envelop it.

Campos-Pons' nine-panel Polaroid "Dreaming of an Island" and the 16-panel "Constellation" are among the show's most exquisite moments. The former is a surreal dreamscape that stars the artist as the isolated outsider, gazing back at a thin sliver of island occupying a narrow band of the composition's top 6 inches. The image's remaining 5 and a half vertical feet are reserved for the water and the long tendrils of hair that flow like ink stains into the engulfing sea. "Constellation" picks up the knotty, kinky hair to make a series of intertwined, surprising sculptural forms.

The messy, painterly backgrounds visible in the photographs refer to painting's drippy late 20th-century history, and to the emulsion that literally makes the images' surfaces. In "Constellation" and "Dreaming of an Island," the artist has dared to risk deep sentiment about art, personhood and the effects of geography, but avoids becoming sentimental in the damning sense that the word is often used.

In Dreaming of an Island, New York-based Campos-Pons ignores the city's current fashion among many young black artists to get at matters of race mainly via innuendo and veiled references, or not at all. (See much of the work in the High Museum's After 1968 for a few textbook examples.) Campos-Pons instead returns to the tradition of Wifredo Lam, Ana Mendieta and other Cuban artists before her whose work unapologetically susses out the African diasporic content both in life and in culture. The last time the mainstream high-art world fully championed the direct approach exhibited here, Kris Kross was running around with its pants on backward and people couldn't stop talking about what may or may not have been in Clarence Thomas' Coke. That makes a crosscurrent such as Campos-Pons all the more vital.

Campos-Pons' opening epigram ends with the belief in love and in the possibility of a better world, making the image of the artist looking back toward the island less sad. That hope gives us reason to believe that love rather than loss pulls her and each of us always back toward home."
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_raw"]=>
  string(4943) "Artist María Magdalena Campos-Pons lets you know exactly where she stands the moment you set foot in the Spelman College Museum of Fine Art. The following epigram is inscribed near the museum's entrance: "Six things are difficult in this world: to be a woman; to be black; to be Cuban; to believe in love; to believe in people; and the possibility that the world can be better."

Message received. ''María Magdalena Campos-Pons: Dreaming of an Island'', the artist's first solo exhibition in Georgia, doesn't shy away from race and gender politics. Instead, she places them resolutely at the center of her vision. Through mediums ranging from photography to video to installation, Campos-Pons explores themes of cultural displacement and the meaning of her female Afro-Cuban identity in the 21st century.

Oversized ironing boards stand upright like monoliths in a semi-circle in the installation "Spoken Softly With Mama, II." Images of the artist and of women in her family many generations back are projected and printed on the boards.

The women sit and stand with unremarkable attitudes that nevertheless betoken grace and endurance under hardships. On the floor, two dozen glass irons form a mandala at the focal point of the boards, balancing the photographs' ethereal, weightless qualities with the sculptural element's heavy solidity.

"Spoken Softly With Mama, II" unashamedly thrusts work and race, femininity and the forces of history into a single spatial continuum.

The irons are breakable and the boards are upright. That such utilitarian items have been made useless points in two directions at once: toward the entrapment of female labor and toward the hope that it be transformed into something transcendent and spiritual.

Meanwhile, the room-sized "The Herbalist's Tools" transforms its space simultaneously into a laboratory, a garden and an apothecary's shop. Loosely painted vegetation crowds the green walls while a collection of lemongrass, cinnamon, rosemary and other herbs sits on small stools scattered throughout the space. What keeps it all from being merely an exercise in botany is the series of chimney-like structures with open vessels at their feet. Inscribed with Spanish and Yoruba, they seem to be waiting for the herbalist's hand but also offering themselves to unseen forces above.

Campos-Pons' stock in trade is the large-format Polaroid photograph, with which the artist began working two decades ago while studying at the Massachusetts College of Art. The show's nine major Polaroid works form the backbone of the exhibition. "Classic Creole," a single image broken into three vertically stacked panels, shows a body wrapped head-to-toe in a brightly patterned fabric. The stacked framing device creates a totem of a female body that both enlivens and is trapped by the cultural symbols that envelop it.

Campos-Pons' nine-panel Polaroid "Dreaming of an Island" and the 16-panel "Constellation" are among the show's most exquisite moments. The former is a surreal dreamscape that stars the artist as the isolated outsider, gazing back at a thin sliver of island occupying a narrow band of the composition's top 6 inches. The image's remaining 5 and a half vertical feet are reserved for the water and the long tendrils of hair that flow like ink stains into the engulfing sea. "Constellation" picks up the knotty, kinky hair to make a series of intertwined, surprising sculptural forms.

The messy, painterly backgrounds visible in the photographs refer to painting's drippy late 20th-century history, and to the emulsion that literally makes the images' surfaces. In "Constellation" and "Dreaming of an Island," the artist has dared to risk deep sentiment about art, personhood and the effects of geography, but avoids becoming sentimental in the damning sense that the word is often used.

In ''Dreaming of an Island'', New York-based Campos-Pons ignores the city's current fashion among many young black artists to get at matters of race mainly via innuendo and veiled references, or not at all. (See much of the work in the High Museum's ''After 1968'' for a few textbook examples.) Campos-Pons instead returns to the tradition of Wifredo Lam, Ana Mendieta and other Cuban artists before her whose work unapologetically susses out the African diasporic content both in life and in culture. The last time the mainstream high-art world fully championed the direct approach exhibited here, Kris Kross was running around with its pants on backward and people couldn't stop talking about what may or may not have been in Clarence Thomas' Coke. That makes a crosscurrent such as Campos-Pons all the more vital.

Campos-Pons' opening epigram ends with the belief in love and in the possibility of a better world, making the image of the artist looking back toward the island less sad. That hope gives us reason to believe that love rather than loss pulls her and each of us always back toward home."
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_creation_date"]=>
  string(25) "2018-01-20T19:39:04+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_modification_date"]=>
  string(25) "2018-01-20T19:39:04+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(3) "631"
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory_text"]=>
  string(3) "631"
  ["tracker_field_contentControlCategory"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_scene"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentNeighborhood"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelations_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelatedContent_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelatedWikiPages_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentBASEContentID"]=>
  string(8) "13028298"
  ["tracker_field_contentLegacyContentID"]=>
  string(7) "1275706"
  ["tracker_field_contentBASEAuthorID"]=>
  int(0)
  ["tracker_field_section"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["language"]=>
  string(7) "unknown"
  ["attachments"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["comment_count"]=>
  int(0)
  ["categories"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    int(581)
  }
  ["deep_categories"]=>
  array(3) {
    [0]=>
    int(242)
    [1]=>
    int(244)
    [2]=>
    int(581)
  }
  ["categories_under_28"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_28"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_1"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_1"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_177"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_177"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_209"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_209"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_163"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_163"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_171"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_171"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_153"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_153"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_242"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_242"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    int(244)
    [1]=>
    int(581)
  }
  ["categories_under_564"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_564"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_1182"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_1182"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["freetags"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["geo_located"]=>
  string(1) "n"
  ["allowed_groups"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(6) "Admins"
    [1]=>
    string(9) "Anonymous"
  }
  ["allowed_users"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relations"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relation_objects"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relation_types"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relation_count"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["title_initial"]=>
  string(1) "D"
  ["title_firstword"]=>
  string(8) "Dreaming"
  ["searchable"]=>
  string(1) "y"
  ["url"]=>
  string(10) "item180109"
  ["object_type"]=>
  string(11) "trackeritem"
  ["object_id"]=>
  string(6) "180109"
  ["contents"]=>
  string(5205) "       2008-10-08T04:04:00+00:00 Dreaming of an Island makes waves at the Spelman Museum of Fine Art   Cinque Hicks 1306447 2008-10-08T04:04:00+00:00  Artist María Magdalena Campos-Pons lets you know exactly where she stands the moment you set foot in the Spelman College Museum of Fine Art. The following epigram is inscribed near the museum's entrance: "Six things are difficult in this world: to be a woman; to be black; to be Cuban; to believe in love; to believe in people; and the possibility that the world can be better."

Message received. María Magdalena Campos-Pons: Dreaming of an Island, the artist's first solo exhibition in Georgia, doesn't shy away from race and gender politics. Instead, she places them resolutely at the center of her vision. Through mediums ranging from photography to video to installation, Campos-Pons explores themes of cultural displacement and the meaning of her female Afro-Cuban identity in the 21st century.

Oversized ironing boards stand upright like monoliths in a semi-circle in the installation "Spoken Softly With Mama, II." Images of the artist and of women in her family many generations back are projected and printed on the boards.

The women sit and stand with unremarkable attitudes that nevertheless betoken grace and endurance under hardships. On the floor, two dozen glass irons form a mandala at the focal point of the boards, balancing the photographs' ethereal, weightless qualities with the sculptural element's heavy solidity.

"Spoken Softly With Mama, II" unashamedly thrusts work and race, femininity and the forces of history into a single spatial continuum.

The irons are breakable and the boards are upright. That such utilitarian items have been made useless points in two directions at once: toward the entrapment of female labor and toward the hope that it be transformed into something transcendent and spiritual.

Meanwhile, the room-sized "The Herbalist's Tools" transforms its space simultaneously into a laboratory, a garden and an apothecary's shop. Loosely painted vegetation crowds the green walls while a collection of lemongrass, cinnamon, rosemary and other herbs sits on small stools scattered throughout the space. What keeps it all from being merely an exercise in botany is the series of chimney-like structures with open vessels at their feet. Inscribed with Spanish and Yoruba, they seem to be waiting for the herbalist's hand but also offering themselves to unseen forces above.

Campos-Pons' stock in trade is the large-format Polaroid photograph, with which the artist began working two decades ago while studying at the Massachusetts College of Art. The show's nine major Polaroid works form the backbone of the exhibition. "Classic Creole," a single image broken into three vertically stacked panels, shows a body wrapped head-to-toe in a brightly patterned fabric. The stacked framing device creates a totem of a female body that both enlivens and is trapped by the cultural symbols that envelop it.

Campos-Pons' nine-panel Polaroid "Dreaming of an Island" and the 16-panel "Constellation" are among the show's most exquisite moments. The former is a surreal dreamscape that stars the artist as the isolated outsider, gazing back at a thin sliver of island occupying a narrow band of the composition's top 6 inches. The image's remaining 5 and a half vertical feet are reserved for the water and the long tendrils of hair that flow like ink stains into the engulfing sea. "Constellation" picks up the knotty, kinky hair to make a series of intertwined, surprising sculptural forms.

The messy, painterly backgrounds visible in the photographs refer to painting's drippy late 20th-century history, and to the emulsion that literally makes the images' surfaces. In "Constellation" and "Dreaming of an Island," the artist has dared to risk deep sentiment about art, personhood and the effects of geography, but avoids becoming sentimental in the damning sense that the word is often used.

In Dreaming of an Island, New York-based Campos-Pons ignores the city's current fashion among many young black artists to get at matters of race mainly via innuendo and veiled references, or not at all. (See much of the work in the High Museum's After 1968 for a few textbook examples.) Campos-Pons instead returns to the tradition of Wifredo Lam, Ana Mendieta and other Cuban artists before her whose work unapologetically susses out the African diasporic content both in life and in culture. The last time the mainstream high-art world fully championed the direct approach exhibited here, Kris Kross was running around with its pants on backward and people couldn't stop talking about what may or may not have been in Clarence Thomas' Coke. That makes a crosscurrent such as Campos-Pons all the more vital.

Campos-Pons' opening epigram ends with the belief in love and in the possibility of a better world, making the image of the artist looking back toward the island less sad. That hope gives us reason to believe that love rather than loss pulls her and each of us always back toward home.             13028298 1275706                          Dreaming of an Island makes waves at the Spelman Museum of Fine Art "
  ["score"]=>
  float(0)
  ["_index"]=>
  string(21) "atlantawiki_tiki_main"
  ["objectlink"]=>
  string(36) "No value for 'contentTitle'"
  ["photos"]=>
  string(130) "Coming Soon

"
  ["desc"]=>
  string(32) "No description provided"
  ["chit_category"]=>
  string(11) "88"
}

Article

Wednesday October 8, 2008 12:04 am EDT

Artist María Magdalena Campos-Pons lets you know exactly where she stands the moment you set foot in the Spelman College Museum of Fine Art. The following epigram is inscribed near the museum's entrance: "Six things are difficult in this world: to be a woman; to be black; to be Cuban; to believe in love; to believe in people; and the possibility that the world can be better."

Message received....

| more...
array(77) {
  ["title"]=>
  string(68) "The Contemporary presents Suzanne Opton's Billboard Project: SOLDIER"
  ["modification_date"]=>
  string(25) "2018-01-20T19:39:04+00:00"
  ["creation_date"]=>
  string(25) "2017-12-29T19:21:41+00:00"
  ["contributors"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(29) "ben.eason@creativeloafing.com"
  }
  ["date"]=>
  string(25) "2008-09-24T04:04:00+00:00"
  ["tracker_status"]=>
  string(1) "o"
  ["tracker_id"]=>
  string(2) "11"
  ["view_permission"]=>
  string(13) "view_trackers"
  ["tracker_field_contentTitle"]=>
  string(68) "The Contemporary presents Suzanne Opton's Billboard Project: SOLDIER"
  ["tracker_field_contentByline"]=>
  string(12) "Cinque Hicks"
  ["tracker_field_contentByline_exact"]=>
  string(12) "Cinque Hicks"
  ["tracker_field_contentBylinePerson"]=>
  string(6) "146030"
  ["tracker_field_contentBylinePerson_text"]=>
  string(7) "1306447"
  ["tracker_field_contentDate"]=>
  string(25) "2008-09-24T04:04:00+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage"]=>
  string(78) "Content:_:The Contemporary presents Suzanne Opton's Billboard Project: SOLDIER"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_text"]=>
  string(2480) "On a somewhat lonely stretch of Marietta Street among a row of neglected and converted industrial spaces, a billboard sits above the pink stucco box of an adult entertainment club. The billboard features the head of a dazed-looking young man with a military haircut, lying sideways on a slab surface. The single word "soldier" occupies the wide empty space to the right.

"Bruno" is the work of New York-based photographer Suzanne Opton, and is presented by the Atlanta Contemporary Art Center. But the billboard isn't an ad for the show; it is the show – Opton's Billboard Project: SOLDIER.

Work on such a colossal scale has precisely two options: succeed magnificently or fail monumentally. Unfortunately Billboard Project: SOLDIER fails utterly as art, proving inadequate to its medium and surroundings.

"Bruno" is one of nine similar billboards being shown more or less concurrently around the country that feature soldiers recently returned from Iraq and Afghanistan. Opton's work is also appearing in Denver and Houston, but not Minneapolis. According to the New York Times, CBS Outdoor, which rents out the billboard space, canceled the Twin Cities' five images for being too "disturbing" to drivers. The move raised suspicions that the company was trying to spare the sensibilities of the Republican National Conventioneers who stormed St. Paul in August.

But the bellyaching says more about Minnesotans' weak stomachs than about anything revelatory in Opton's work. The image invades the advertising space only to be clobbered by the power of advertising's familiar visual language. The sexy fashion lighting, the impeccably tasteful font choice – "Bruno" appears more like an overwrought and slightly inappropriate Drakkar Noir ad. If the message is that war is being sold to all us dupes as a glossy product of fetishized capitalism, then, yeah, I got that on page one of my copy of the Yahoo Lefty Handbook.

Billboard Project: SOLDIER comes across as an almost entirely political gesture with little of the internal paradox that makes successful art sing. Blogs and newspapers serve the interest of political discussion much better than arty billboards, and so it's no wonder that the press accounts of the work are far more thrilling than the work itself.

For a lefty art critic, the expectation is to say, "It pissed off the Republicans; it must be good!" But it's not. It's the wrong medium. That it pissed off the Republicans is just a happy accident.

 "
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_raw"]=>
  string(2573) "On a somewhat lonely stretch of Marietta Street among a row of neglected and converted industrial spaces, a billboard sits above the pink stucco box of an adult entertainment club. The billboard features the head of a dazed-looking young man with a military haircut, lying sideways on a slab surface. The single word "soldier" occupies the wide empty space to the right.

"Bruno" is the work of New York-based photographer Suzanne Opton, and is presented by the Atlanta Contemporary Art Center. But the billboard isn't an ad for the show; it ''is'' the show – Opton's ''Billboard Project: SOLDIER''.

Work on such a colossal scale has precisely two options: succeed magnificently or fail monumentally. Unfortunately ''Billboard Project: SOLDIER'' fails utterly as art, proving inadequate to its medium and surroundings.

"Bruno" is one of nine similar billboards being shown more or less concurrently around the country that feature soldiers recently returned from Iraq and Afghanistan. Opton's work is also appearing in Denver and Houston, but ''not'' Minneapolis. [http://www.nytimes.com/2008/08/30/us/politics/30billboard.html|According to the ''New York Times''], CBS Outdoor, which rents out the billboard space, canceled the Twin Cities' five images for being too "disturbing" to drivers. The move raised suspicions that the company was trying to spare the sensibilities of the Republican National Conventioneers who stormed St. Paul in August.

But the bellyaching says more about Minnesotans' weak stomachs than about anything revelatory in Opton's work. The image invades the advertising space only to be clobbered by the power of advertising's familiar visual language. The sexy fashion lighting, the impeccably tasteful font choice – "Bruno" appears more like an overwrought and slightly inappropriate Drakkar Noir ad. If the message is that war is being sold to all us dupes as a glossy product of fetishized capitalism, then, yeah, I got that on page one of my copy of the ''Yahoo Lefty Handbook''.

''Billboard Project: SOLDIER'' comes across as an almost entirely political gesture with little of the internal paradox that makes successful art sing. Blogs and newspapers serve the interest of political discussion much better than arty billboards, and so it's no wonder that the press accounts of the work are far more thrilling than the work itself.

For a lefty art critic, the expectation is to say, "It pissed off the Republicans; it must be good!" But it's not. It's the wrong medium. That it pissed off the Republicans is just a happy accident.

 "
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_creation_date"]=>
  string(25) "2018-01-20T19:39:04+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_modification_date"]=>
  string(25) "2018-01-20T19:39:04+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(3) "631"
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory_text"]=>
  string(3) "631"
  ["tracker_field_contentControlCategory"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_scene"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentNeighborhood"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelations_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelatedContent_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelatedWikiPages_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentBASEContentID"]=>
  string(8) "13028215"
  ["tracker_field_contentLegacyContentID"]=>
  string(7) "1275468"
  ["tracker_field_contentBASEAuthorID"]=>
  int(0)
  ["tracker_field_section"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["language"]=>
  string(7) "unknown"
  ["attachments"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["comment_count"]=>
  int(0)
  ["categories"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    int(581)
  }
  ["deep_categories"]=>
  array(3) {
    [0]=>
    int(242)
    [1]=>
    int(244)
    [2]=>
    int(581)
  }
  ["categories_under_28"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_28"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_1"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_1"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_177"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_177"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_209"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_209"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_163"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_163"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_171"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_171"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_153"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_153"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_242"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_242"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    int(244)
    [1]=>
    int(581)
  }
  ["categories_under_564"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_564"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_1182"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_1182"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["freetags"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["geo_located"]=>
  string(1) "n"
  ["allowed_groups"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(6) "Admins"
    [1]=>
    string(9) "Anonymous"
  }
  ["allowed_users"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relations"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relation_objects"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relation_types"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relation_count"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["title_initial"]=>
  string(1) "T"
  ["title_firstword"]=>
  string(3) "The"
  ["searchable"]=>
  string(1) "y"
  ["url"]=>
  string(10) "item180108"
  ["object_type"]=>
  string(11) "trackeritem"
  ["object_id"]=>
  string(6) "180108"
  ["contents"]=>
  string(2756) "       2008-09-24T04:04:00+00:00 The Contemporary presents Suzanne Opton's Billboard Project: SOLDIER   Cinque Hicks 1306447 2008-09-24T04:04:00+00:00  On a somewhat lonely stretch of Marietta Street among a row of neglected and converted industrial spaces, a billboard sits above the pink stucco box of an adult entertainment club. The billboard features the head of a dazed-looking young man with a military haircut, lying sideways on a slab surface. The single word "soldier" occupies the wide empty space to the right.

"Bruno" is the work of New York-based photographer Suzanne Opton, and is presented by the Atlanta Contemporary Art Center. But the billboard isn't an ad for the show; it is the show – Opton's Billboard Project: SOLDIER.

Work on such a colossal scale has precisely two options: succeed magnificently or fail monumentally. Unfortunately Billboard Project: SOLDIER fails utterly as art, proving inadequate to its medium and surroundings.

"Bruno" is one of nine similar billboards being shown more or less concurrently around the country that feature soldiers recently returned from Iraq and Afghanistan. Opton's work is also appearing in Denver and Houston, but not Minneapolis. According to the New York Times, CBS Outdoor, which rents out the billboard space, canceled the Twin Cities' five images for being too "disturbing" to drivers. The move raised suspicions that the company was trying to spare the sensibilities of the Republican National Conventioneers who stormed St. Paul in August.

But the bellyaching says more about Minnesotans' weak stomachs than about anything revelatory in Opton's work. The image invades the advertising space only to be clobbered by the power of advertising's familiar visual language. The sexy fashion lighting, the impeccably tasteful font choice – "Bruno" appears more like an overwrought and slightly inappropriate Drakkar Noir ad. If the message is that war is being sold to all us dupes as a glossy product of fetishized capitalism, then, yeah, I got that on page one of my copy of the Yahoo Lefty Handbook.

Billboard Project: SOLDIER comes across as an almost entirely political gesture with little of the internal paradox that makes successful art sing. Blogs and newspapers serve the interest of political discussion much better than arty billboards, and so it's no wonder that the press accounts of the work are far more thrilling than the work itself.

For a lefty art critic, the expectation is to say, "It pissed off the Republicans; it must be good!" But it's not. It's the wrong medium. That it pissed off the Republicans is just a happy accident.

              13028215 1275468                          The Contemporary presents Suzanne Opton's Billboard Project: SOLDIER "
  ["score"]=>
  float(0)
  ["_index"]=>
  string(21) "atlantawiki_tiki_main"
  ["objectlink"]=>
  string(36) "No value for 'contentTitle'"
  ["photos"]=>
  string(130) "Coming Soon

"
  ["desc"]=>
  string(32) "No description provided"
  ["chit_category"]=>
  string(11) "88"
}

Article

Wednesday September 24, 2008 12:04 am EDT

On a somewhat lonely stretch of Marietta Street among a row of neglected and converted industrial spaces, a billboard sits above the pink stucco box of an adult entertainment club. The billboard features the head of a dazed-looking young man with a military haircut, lying sideways on a slab surface. The single word "soldier" occupies the wide empty space to the right.

"Bruno" is the work of...

| more...
array(79) {
  ["title"]=>
  string(45) "MOCA GA preserves region's visual-arts legacy"
  ["modification_date"]=>
  string(25) "2018-06-13T01:06:18+00:00"
  ["creation_date"]=>
  string(25) "2017-12-29T19:21:41+00:00"
  ["contributors"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(29) "ben.eason@creativeloafing.com"
  }
  ["date"]=>
  string(25) "2008-09-17T04:04:00+00:00"
  ["tracker_status"]=>
  string(1) "o"
  ["tracker_id"]=>
  string(2) "11"
  ["view_permission"]=>
  string(13) "view_trackers"
  ["tracker_field_contentTitle"]=>
  string(45) "MOCA GA preserves region's visual-arts legacy"
  ["tracker_field_contentByline"]=>
  string(12) "Cinque Hicks"
  ["tracker_field_contentByline_exact"]=>
  string(12) "Cinque Hicks"
  ["tracker_field_contentBylinePerson"]=>
  string(6) "146030"
  ["tracker_field_contentBylinePerson_text"]=>
  string(7) "1306447"
  ["tracker_field_description"]=>
  string(34) "Annette Cone-Skelton leads the way"
  ["tracker_field_description_raw"]=>
  string(34) "Annette Cone-Skelton leads the way"
  ["tracker_field_contentDate"]=>
  string(25) "2008-09-17T04:04:00+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage"]=>
  string(55) "Content:_:MOCA GA preserves region's visual-arts legacy"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_text"]=>
  string(5656) "The Museum of Contemporary Art of Georgia's nerve center lies underground. Down in the subterranean education/resource center, museum president and co-founder Annette Cone-Skelton works her way easily through MOCA GA's archive and its growing permanent collection. She points out various prize possessions including an early Rocio Rodriguez painting and a Kevin Cole sculpture. Official-looking black binders fill several shelves along the far wall and artwork hangs back-to-back in high vertical storage units. The rest of the room is filled with a few computer monitors on tidy desks lit by the room's sole source of natural light: a horizontal band of windows near the ceiling that open onto the parking lot outside.

The room is neither glamorous, nor particularly elegant. It's the kind of space described politely as "functional." But as the place that houses the museum's collected knowledge, it acts as the institution's boiler room. And in time, MOCA GA's resource center may turn out to be Atlanta's most important art space.

To understand MOCA GA's importance in Atlanta's art landscape, one must rewind to the years before co-founders Cone-Skelton and David Golden opened the museum in 2001. Prior to MOCA GA, the city was bereft of any major institution devoted to collecting and showcasing the work made since World War II by regional artists.

"A lot of the history was being lost by the young folks coming in and not knowing what came before them in terms of organizations, in terms of collectives," Cone-Skelton says. MOCA GA was founded to fill in that historical gap. She names a number of collectives and artists with an urgency in her voice, as though she's aware that their history is always on the brink of disappearing: Genevieve Arnold, the Women's Art Collective, the Vigilante Girls, all active in Atlanta's recent past.

Cone-Skelton is a daughter of the South. Born and raised in LaGrange, Ga., she's made her home in Atlanta for the past four decades as an artist and art consultant. She's the kind of woman who makes the phrase grande dame jump to mind, and when answering questions, she smiles coyly and pronounces "important" like impahwtant, all loaded with drowsy Southern vowels.

But if Cone-Skelton's manner is old-style South, her tastes in art are clearly riskier and more cosmopolitan. In 2005, she approached Larry Jens Anderson, one of the founders of Atlanta's '80s and '90s muckraking art collective TABOO, to acquire the group's personal archives. Between 1988 and 1999, TABOO pulled off a series of shows and public "interferences" that included a Jesse Helms lawn jockey, contraband Olympic merchandise and a show referencing Judy Chicago's women-only "Dinner Party" called Johnny Detroit's Brunch, whose invitation read "Men Only."

MOCA GA obtained the collection and carefully cataloged, digitized and archivally stored the materials for the benefit of future researchers. On Aug. 9, TABOO Remembered opened in the Project Ramp area. As the collected record of everything TABOO did and everyone the group pissed off for more than a decade, the show is the first educational exhibition curated for the new space.

Anderson understands the fragility of the collective's small piece of cultural history: Following the death of three of TABOO's four core members – Michael Venezia, King Thackston and David Fraley – the group's collected mish-mash of stuff all went to its lone surviving member, Anderson, who describes himself as TABOO's "accountant." "Well, if I had died," he says, "my lover would have known what this stuff was, but he wouldn't have known what to do with it. It just looked like so many boxes of invitations and letters and records." When Cone-Skelton asked that it become a part of MOCA GA's permanent archive, Anderson was thrilled that the TABOO memorabilia would have a home.

In cities where the international hiperati have worn grooves in artist studio floors looking for the next great star – New York, London, and, increasingly, secondary markets such as Portland and Miami – critical attention from the art world at large is a more plentiful commodity for artists. For still-burgeoning markets such as Atlanta, systematic local attention is a vital piece of infrastructure in which artists can see themselves as part of an ongoing international conversation. Without it, the efforts of local artists might disappear under the eroding forces of time.

That's where MOCA GA's presence is critical to Atlanta's art ecology. What's in those hundreds of official-looking black binders on the resource room's far wall? They hold a record of the city's creative assets as played out through its most noteworthy artists. The names along the spines are a litany of local visual history: Gregor Turk, Freddie Styles, Deanna Sirlin, Kojo Griffin, Angela West, Golden Blizzard. Each binder minutely traces an artist's career and creative output.

MOCA GA is not only tracking individual artists, but creating a repository for the local art community's collective memory as well. The museum has recently acquired the complete art library of deceased abstract painter Genevieve Arnold, the personal effects of the Vigilante Girls and the Women's Art Collective, and keeps an archival record of Art Papers dating back to the publication's inception as the Art Worker's Coalition Newspaper, something that even Art Papers itself doesn't maintain for public use.

That anyone is keeping track is remarkable. That Cone-Skelton, collections manager Lisa Thrower, and a handful of staff and interns are doing so with such precision and dedication is a boon for the region's cultural legacy."
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_raw"]=>
  string(5684) "The Museum of Contemporary Art of Georgia's nerve center lies underground. Down in the subterranean education/resource center, museum president and co-founder Annette Cone-Skelton works her way easily through MOCA GA's archive and its growing permanent collection. She points out various prize possessions including an early Rocio Rodriguez painting and a Kevin Cole sculpture. Official-looking black binders fill several shelves along the far wall and artwork hangs back-to-back in high vertical storage units. The rest of the room is filled with a few computer monitors on tidy desks lit by the room's sole source of natural light: a horizontal band of windows near the ceiling that open onto the parking lot outside.

The room is neither glamorous, nor particularly elegant. It's the kind of space described politely as "functional." But as the place that houses the museum's collected knowledge, it acts as the institution's boiler room. And in time, MOCA GA's resource center may turn out to be Atlanta's most important art space.

To understand MOCA GA's importance in Atlanta's art landscape, one must rewind to the years before co-founders Cone-Skelton and David Golden opened the museum in 2001. Prior to MOCA GA, the city was bereft of any major institution devoted to collecting and showcasing the work made since World War II by regional artists.

"A lot of the history was being lost by the young folks coming in and not knowing what came before them in terms of organizations, in terms of collectives," Cone-Skelton says. MOCA GA was founded to fill in that historical gap. She names a number of collectives and artists with an urgency in her voice, as though she's aware that their history is always on the brink of disappearing: Genevieve Arnold, the Women's Art Collective, the Vigilante Girls, all active in Atlanta's recent past.

Cone-Skelton is a daughter of the South. Born and raised in LaGrange, Ga., she's made her home in Atlanta for the past four decades as an artist and art consultant. She's the kind of woman who makes the phrase ''grande dame'' jump to mind, and when answering questions, she smiles coyly and pronounces "important" like ''impahwtant'', all loaded with drowsy Southern vowels.

But if Cone-Skelton's manner is old-style South, her tastes in art are clearly riskier and more cosmopolitan. In 2005, she approached Larry Jens Anderson, one of the founders of Atlanta's '80s and '90s muckraking art collective TABOO, to acquire the group's personal archives. Between 1988 and 1999, TABOO pulled off a series of shows and public "interferences" that included a Jesse Helms lawn jockey, contraband Olympic merchandise and a show referencing Judy Chicago's women-only "Dinner Party" called ''Johnny Detroit's Brunch'', whose invitation read "Men Only."

MOCA GA obtained the collection and carefully cataloged, digitized and archivally stored the materials for the benefit of future researchers. On Aug. 9, ''TABOO Remembered'' opened in the Project Ramp area. As the collected record of everything TABOO did and everyone the group pissed off for more than a decade, the show is the first educational exhibition curated for the new space.

Anderson understands the fragility of the collective's small piece of cultural history: Following the death of three of TABOO's four core members – Michael Venezia, King Thackston and David Fraley – the group's collected mish-mash of stuff all went to its lone surviving member, Anderson, who describes himself as TABOO's "accountant." "Well, if I had died," he says, "my lover would have known what this stuff was, but he wouldn't have known what to do with it. It just looked like so many boxes of invitations and letters and records." When Cone-Skelton asked that it become a part of MOCA GA's permanent archive, Anderson was thrilled that the TABOO memorabilia would have a home.

In cities where the international hiperati have worn grooves in artist studio floors looking for the next great star – New York, London, and, increasingly, secondary markets such as Portland and Miami – critical attention from the art world at large is a more plentiful commodity for artists. For still-burgeoning markets such as Atlanta, systematic local attention is a vital piece of infrastructure in which artists can see themselves as part of an ongoing international conversation. Without it, the efforts of local artists might disappear under the eroding forces of time.

That's where MOCA GA's presence is critical to Atlanta's art ecology. What's in those hundreds of official-looking black binders on the resource room's far wall? They hold a record of the city's creative assets as played out through its most noteworthy artists. The names along the spines are a litany of local visual history: Gregor Turk, Freddie Styles, Deanna Sirlin, Kojo Griffin, Angela West, Golden Blizzard. Each binder minutely traces an artist's career and creative output.

MOCA GA is not only tracking individual artists, but creating a repository for the local art community's collective memory as well. The museum has recently acquired the complete art library of deceased abstract painter Genevieve Arnold, the personal effects of the Vigilante Girls and the Women's Art Collective, and keeps an archival record of ''Art Papers'' dating back to the publication's inception as the ''Art Worker's Coalition Newspaper'', something that even ''Art Papers'' itself doesn't maintain for public use.

That anyone is keeping track is remarkable. That Cone-Skelton, collections manager Lisa Thrower, and a handful of staff and interns are doing so with such precision and dedication is a boon for the region's cultural legacy."
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_creation_date"]=>
  string(25) "2018-01-20T19:39:04+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_modification_date"]=>
  string(25) "2018-01-20T19:39:04+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(3) "631"
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory_text"]=>
  string(3) "631"
  ["tracker_field_contentControlCategory"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_scene"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentNeighborhood"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelations_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelatedContent_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelatedWikiPages_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentBASEContentID"]=>
  string(8) "13028175"
  ["tracker_field_contentLegacyContentID"]=>
  string(7) "1275385"
  ["tracker_field_contentBASEAuthorID"]=>
  int(0)
  ["tracker_field_section"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["language"]=>
  string(7) "unknown"
  ["attachments"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["comment_count"]=>
  int(0)
  ["categories"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    int(581)
  }
  ["deep_categories"]=>
  array(3) {
    [0]=>
    int(242)
    [1]=>
    int(244)
    [2]=>
    int(581)
  }
  ["categories_under_28"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_28"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_1"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_1"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_177"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_177"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_209"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_209"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_163"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_163"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_171"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_171"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_153"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_153"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_242"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_242"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    int(244)
    [1]=>
    int(581)
  }
  ["categories_under_564"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_564"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_1182"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_1182"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["freetags"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["geo_located"]=>
  string(1) "n"
  ["allowed_groups"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(6) "Admins"
    [1]=>
    string(9) "Anonymous"
  }
  ["allowed_users"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relations"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relation_objects"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relation_types"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relation_count"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["title_initial"]=>
  string(1) "M"
  ["title_firstword"]=>
  string(4) "MOCA"
  ["searchable"]=>
  string(1) "y"
  ["url"]=>
  string(10) "item180107"
  ["object_type"]=>
  string(11) "trackeritem"
  ["object_id"]=>
  string(6) "180107"
  ["contents"]=>
  string(5920) "    Annette Cone-Skelton leads the way   2008-09-17T04:04:00+00:00 MOCA GA preserves region's visual-arts legacy   Cinque Hicks 1306447 2008-09-17T04:04:00+00:00  The Museum of Contemporary Art of Georgia's nerve center lies underground. Down in the subterranean education/resource center, museum president and co-founder Annette Cone-Skelton works her way easily through MOCA GA's archive and its growing permanent collection. She points out various prize possessions including an early Rocio Rodriguez painting and a Kevin Cole sculpture. Official-looking black binders fill several shelves along the far wall and artwork hangs back-to-back in high vertical storage units. The rest of the room is filled with a few computer monitors on tidy desks lit by the room's sole source of natural light: a horizontal band of windows near the ceiling that open onto the parking lot outside.

The room is neither glamorous, nor particularly elegant. It's the kind of space described politely as "functional." But as the place that houses the museum's collected knowledge, it acts as the institution's boiler room. And in time, MOCA GA's resource center may turn out to be Atlanta's most important art space.

To understand MOCA GA's importance in Atlanta's art landscape, one must rewind to the years before co-founders Cone-Skelton and David Golden opened the museum in 2001. Prior to MOCA GA, the city was bereft of any major institution devoted to collecting and showcasing the work made since World War II by regional artists.

"A lot of the history was being lost by the young folks coming in and not knowing what came before them in terms of organizations, in terms of collectives," Cone-Skelton says. MOCA GA was founded to fill in that historical gap. She names a number of collectives and artists with an urgency in her voice, as though she's aware that their history is always on the brink of disappearing: Genevieve Arnold, the Women's Art Collective, the Vigilante Girls, all active in Atlanta's recent past.

Cone-Skelton is a daughter of the South. Born and raised in LaGrange, Ga., she's made her home in Atlanta for the past four decades as an artist and art consultant. She's the kind of woman who makes the phrase grande dame jump to mind, and when answering questions, she smiles coyly and pronounces "important" like impahwtant, all loaded with drowsy Southern vowels.

But if Cone-Skelton's manner is old-style South, her tastes in art are clearly riskier and more cosmopolitan. In 2005, she approached Larry Jens Anderson, one of the founders of Atlanta's '80s and '90s muckraking art collective TABOO, to acquire the group's personal archives. Between 1988 and 1999, TABOO pulled off a series of shows and public "interferences" that included a Jesse Helms lawn jockey, contraband Olympic merchandise and a show referencing Judy Chicago's women-only "Dinner Party" called Johnny Detroit's Brunch, whose invitation read "Men Only."

MOCA GA obtained the collection and carefully cataloged, digitized and archivally stored the materials for the benefit of future researchers. On Aug. 9, TABOO Remembered opened in the Project Ramp area. As the collected record of everything TABOO did and everyone the group pissed off for more than a decade, the show is the first educational exhibition curated for the new space.

Anderson understands the fragility of the collective's small piece of cultural history: Following the death of three of TABOO's four core members – Michael Venezia, King Thackston and David Fraley – the group's collected mish-mash of stuff all went to its lone surviving member, Anderson, who describes himself as TABOO's "accountant." "Well, if I had died," he says, "my lover would have known what this stuff was, but he wouldn't have known what to do with it. It just looked like so many boxes of invitations and letters and records." When Cone-Skelton asked that it become a part of MOCA GA's permanent archive, Anderson was thrilled that the TABOO memorabilia would have a home.

In cities where the international hiperati have worn grooves in artist studio floors looking for the next great star – New York, London, and, increasingly, secondary markets such as Portland and Miami – critical attention from the art world at large is a more plentiful commodity for artists. For still-burgeoning markets such as Atlanta, systematic local attention is a vital piece of infrastructure in which artists can see themselves as part of an ongoing international conversation. Without it, the efforts of local artists might disappear under the eroding forces of time.

That's where MOCA GA's presence is critical to Atlanta's art ecology. What's in those hundreds of official-looking black binders on the resource room's far wall? They hold a record of the city's creative assets as played out through its most noteworthy artists. The names along the spines are a litany of local visual history: Gregor Turk, Freddie Styles, Deanna Sirlin, Kojo Griffin, Angela West, Golden Blizzard. Each binder minutely traces an artist's career and creative output.

MOCA GA is not only tracking individual artists, but creating a repository for the local art community's collective memory as well. The museum has recently acquired the complete art library of deceased abstract painter Genevieve Arnold, the personal effects of the Vigilante Girls and the Women's Art Collective, and keeps an archival record of Art Papers dating back to the publication's inception as the Art Worker's Coalition Newspaper, something that even Art Papers itself doesn't maintain for public use.

That anyone is keeping track is remarkable. That Cone-Skelton, collections manager Lisa Thrower, and a handful of staff and interns are doing so with such precision and dedication is a boon for the region's cultural legacy.             13028175 1275385                          MOCA GA preserves region's visual-arts legacy "
  ["score"]=>
  float(0)
  ["_index"]=>
  string(21) "atlantawiki_tiki_main"
  ["objectlink"]=>
  string(36) "No value for 'contentTitle'"
  ["photos"]=>
  string(130) "Coming Soon

"
  ["desc"]=>
  string(43) "Annette Cone-Skelton leads the way"
  ["chit_category"]=>
  string(11) "88"
}

Article

Wednesday September 17, 2008 12:04 am EDT
Annette Cone-Skelton leads the way | more...
array(79) {
  ["title"]=>
  string(46) "You Ain't Wrong at Hagedorn Foundation Gallery"
  ["modification_date"]=>
  string(25) "2018-06-13T01:06:18+00:00"
  ["creation_date"]=>
  string(25) "2017-12-29T19:21:41+00:00"
  ["contributors"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(29) "ben.eason@creativeloafing.com"
  }
  ["date"]=>
  string(25) "2008-09-10T04:04:00+00:00"
  ["tracker_status"]=>
  string(1) "o"
  ["tracker_id"]=>
  string(2) "11"
  ["view_permission"]=>
  string(13) "view_trackers"
  ["tracker_field_contentTitle"]=>
  string(46) "You Ain't Wrong at Hagedorn Foundation Gallery"
  ["tracker_field_contentByline"]=>
  string(12) "Cinque Hicks"
  ["tracker_field_contentByline_exact"]=>
  string(12) "Cinque Hicks"
  ["tracker_field_contentBylinePerson"]=>
  string(6) "146030"
  ["tracker_field_contentBylinePerson_text"]=>
  string(7) "1306447"
  ["tracker_field_description"]=>
  string(52) "Artist William Boling probes eBay's consumer culture"
  ["tracker_field_description_raw"]=>
  string(52) "Artist William Boling probes eBay's consumer culture"
  ["tracker_field_contentDate"]=>
  string(25) "2008-09-10T04:04:00+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage"]=>
  string(56) "Content:_:You Ain't Wrong at Hagedorn Foundation Gallery"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_text"]=>
  string(2351) "When digital artist Keith Obadike attempted to sell his blackness to the highest bidder in a 2001 eBay auction, site officials threw a conniption and canceled the sale. Spoilsports. But that hasn't stopped a parade of post-Obadike artists from rummaging through eBay's massive virtual flea market with grand artistic intentions.

Atlanta-based William Boling's You Ain't Wrong at Hagedorn Foundation Gallery is the latest such foray into the underworld of person-to-person online commerce, and the effects are appropriately quirky.

The bulk of the exhibit comprises some 100 odd digital images extracted from random auction postings on eBay and its New Zealand counterpart TradeMe. And "odd" is the word. Photographed items include a pair of deer forelimbs, a mini cement mixer and various doll parts. Lots and lots of doll parts.

Boling pairs the images in uncanny, sometimes disturbing ways, to create a series of nimble diptychs. The digitally produced prints vary in scale from a few inches to several feet across. A hatchet head butts up against a male doll's forearm. A cascade of blond hair meets an impressive set of buck antlers – two crowning glories in a single frame. Boling's visual splices mine the subconscious of capitalism. Each work is part of a parade of objects yoked together linguistically by metaphor, simile and counterpoint.

As we make the sometimes ludicrous connections between dissimilar objects, You Ain't Wrong reveals the strange leaps required to transform the intimate evidence of our living into so many exchangeable commodities. Where Atlanta artists Charles Huntley Nelson and Anita Arliss have examined the flattening effect of the Internet on our personhood, Boling concentrates on what it does to our things.

Art exhibitions of artless objects throw more light back on their context than on whatever's in the frame or on the pedestal. That's what they're designed to do. (Duchamp's urinal – a foundational work of Dada art – forced everyone to rethink not so much the urinal as the art world around it.) It speaks well for Hagedorn that Boling's exhibit of such irreducible weirdness should land in the heart of Buckhead, home to profusions of idea-proof, decorative niceties. Moreover, You Ain't Wrong issues a significant challenge to an entire art-world subculture and the assumptions it holds dear."
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_raw"]=>
  string(2367) "When digital artist Keith Obadike attempted to sell his blackness to the highest bidder in a 2001 eBay auction, site officials threw a conniption and canceled the sale. Spoilsports. But that hasn't stopped a parade of post-Obadike artists from rummaging through eBay's massive virtual flea market with grand artistic intentions.

Atlanta-based William Boling's ''You Ain't Wrong'' at Hagedorn Foundation Gallery is the latest such foray into the underworld of person-to-person online commerce, and the effects are appropriately quirky.

The bulk of the exhibit comprises some 100 odd digital images extracted from random auction postings on eBay and its New Zealand counterpart TradeMe. And "odd" is the word. Photographed items include a pair of deer forelimbs, a mini cement mixer and various doll parts. Lots and lots of doll parts.

Boling pairs the images in uncanny, sometimes disturbing ways, to create a series of nimble diptychs. The digitally produced prints vary in scale from a few inches to several feet across. A hatchet head butts up against a male doll's forearm. A cascade of blond hair meets an impressive set of buck antlers – two crowning glories in a single frame. Boling's visual splices mine the subconscious of capitalism. Each work is part of a parade of objects yoked together linguistically by metaphor, simile and counterpoint.

As we make the sometimes ludicrous connections between dissimilar objects, ''You Ain't Wrong'' reveals the strange leaps required to transform the intimate evidence of our living into so many exchangeable commodities. Where Atlanta artists Charles Huntley Nelson and Anita Arliss have examined the flattening effect of the Internet on our personhood, Boling concentrates on what it does to our ''things''.

Art exhibitions of artless objects throw more light back on their context than on whatever's in the frame or on the pedestal. That's what they're designed to do. (Duchamp's urinal – a foundational work of Dada art – forced everyone to rethink not so much the urinal as the art world around it.) It speaks well for Hagedorn that Boling's exhibit of such irreducible weirdness should land in the heart of Buckhead, home to profusions of idea-proof, decorative niceties. Moreover, ''You Ain't Wrong'' issues a significant challenge to an entire art-world subculture and the assumptions it holds dear."
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_creation_date"]=>
  string(25) "2018-01-20T19:39:04+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_modification_date"]=>
  string(25) "2018-01-20T19:39:04+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(3) "631"
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory_text"]=>
  string(3) "631"
  ["tracker_field_contentControlCategory"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_scene"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentNeighborhood"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelations_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelatedContent_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelatedWikiPages_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentBASEContentID"]=>
  string(8) "13028155"
  ["tracker_field_contentLegacyContentID"]=>
  string(7) "1275344"
  ["tracker_field_contentBASEAuthorID"]=>
  int(0)
  ["tracker_field_section"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["language"]=>
  string(7) "unknown"
  ["attachments"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["comment_count"]=>
  int(0)
  ["categories"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    int(581)
  }
  ["deep_categories"]=>
  array(3) {
    [0]=>
    int(242)
    [1]=>
    int(244)
    [2]=>
    int(581)
  }
  ["categories_under_28"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_28"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_1"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_1"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_177"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_177"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_209"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_209"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_163"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_163"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_171"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_171"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_153"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_153"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_242"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_242"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    int(244)
    [1]=>
    int(581)
  }
  ["categories_under_564"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_564"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_1182"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_1182"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["freetags"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["geo_located"]=>
  string(1) "n"
  ["allowed_groups"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(6) "Admins"
    [1]=>
    string(9) "Anonymous"
  }
  ["allowed_users"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relations"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relation_objects"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relation_types"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relation_count"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["title_initial"]=>
  string(1) "Y"
  ["title_firstword"]=>
  string(3) "You"
  ["searchable"]=>
  string(1) "y"
  ["url"]=>
  string(10) "item180106"
  ["object_type"]=>
  string(11) "trackeritem"
  ["object_id"]=>
  string(6) "180106"
  ["contents"]=>
  string(2635) "    Artist William Boling probes eBay's consumer culture   2008-09-10T04:04:00+00:00 You Ain't Wrong at Hagedorn Foundation Gallery   Cinque Hicks 1306447 2008-09-10T04:04:00+00:00  When digital artist Keith Obadike attempted to sell his blackness to the highest bidder in a 2001 eBay auction, site officials threw a conniption and canceled the sale. Spoilsports. But that hasn't stopped a parade of post-Obadike artists from rummaging through eBay's massive virtual flea market with grand artistic intentions.

Atlanta-based William Boling's You Ain't Wrong at Hagedorn Foundation Gallery is the latest such foray into the underworld of person-to-person online commerce, and the effects are appropriately quirky.

The bulk of the exhibit comprises some 100 odd digital images extracted from random auction postings on eBay and its New Zealand counterpart TradeMe. And "odd" is the word. Photographed items include a pair of deer forelimbs, a mini cement mixer and various doll parts. Lots and lots of doll parts.

Boling pairs the images in uncanny, sometimes disturbing ways, to create a series of nimble diptychs. The digitally produced prints vary in scale from a few inches to several feet across. A hatchet head butts up against a male doll's forearm. A cascade of blond hair meets an impressive set of buck antlers – two crowning glories in a single frame. Boling's visual splices mine the subconscious of capitalism. Each work is part of a parade of objects yoked together linguistically by metaphor, simile and counterpoint.

As we make the sometimes ludicrous connections between dissimilar objects, You Ain't Wrong reveals the strange leaps required to transform the intimate evidence of our living into so many exchangeable commodities. Where Atlanta artists Charles Huntley Nelson and Anita Arliss have examined the flattening effect of the Internet on our personhood, Boling concentrates on what it does to our things.

Art exhibitions of artless objects throw more light back on their context than on whatever's in the frame or on the pedestal. That's what they're designed to do. (Duchamp's urinal – a foundational work of Dada art – forced everyone to rethink not so much the urinal as the art world around it.) It speaks well for Hagedorn that Boling's exhibit of such irreducible weirdness should land in the heart of Buckhead, home to profusions of idea-proof, decorative niceties. Moreover, You Ain't Wrong issues a significant challenge to an entire art-world subculture and the assumptions it holds dear.             13028155 1275344                          You Ain't Wrong at Hagedorn Foundation Gallery "
  ["score"]=>
  float(0)
  ["_index"]=>
  string(21) "atlantawiki_tiki_main"
  ["objectlink"]=>
  string(36) "No value for 'contentTitle'"
  ["photos"]=>
  string(130) "Coming Soon

"
  ["desc"]=>
  string(61) "Artist William Boling probes eBay's consumer culture"
  ["chit_category"]=>
  string(11) "88"
}

Article

Wednesday September 10, 2008 12:04 am EDT
Artist William Boling probes eBay's consumer culture | more...
array(79) {
  ["title"]=>
  string(30) "Cryptoecology: Animal instinct"
  ["modification_date"]=>
  string(25) "2018-06-16T00:59:37+00:00"
  ["creation_date"]=>
  string(25) "2017-12-29T19:21:41+00:00"
  ["contributors"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(29) "ben.eason@creativeloafing.com"
  }
  ["date"]=>
  string(25) "2008-09-03T04:04:00+00:00"
  ["tracker_status"]=>
  string(1) "o"
  ["tracker_id"]=>
  string(2) "11"
  ["view_permission"]=>
  string(13) "view_trackers"
  ["tracker_field_contentTitle"]=>
  string(30) "Cryptoecology: Animal instinct"
  ["tracker_field_contentByline"]=>
  string(12) "Cinque Hicks"
  ["tracker_field_contentByline_exact"]=>
  string(12) "Cinque Hicks"
  ["tracker_field_contentBylinePerson"]=>
  string(6) "146030"
  ["tracker_field_contentBylinePerson_text"]=>
  string(7) "1306447"
  ["tracker_field_description"]=>
  string(33) "Ruth Stanford hunts for the truth"
  ["tracker_field_description_raw"]=>
  string(33) "Ruth Stanford hunts for the truth"
  ["tracker_field_contentDate"]=>
  string(25) "2008-09-03T04:04:00+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage"]=>
  string(40) "Content:_:Cryptoecology: Animal instinct"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_text"]=>
  string(2309) "Last summer, the international art press suffered a collective aneurism trying to figure out if artist Peter Friedl's 10-foot stuffed giraffe was art or mere taxidermy when it went on display at Documenta, a major international art fair in Kassel, Germany. Ruth Stanford's Cryptoecology at Eyedrum unequivocally makes the point that the two need not be at odds if handled with insight and artistic bravura.

Cryptoecology is built around a core of 17 sculptures and installation works, most of which feature faux animal parts gleaned from taxidermy catalogs and supply houses. A row of cast-resin duck heads mounted on wooden plaques comprises the "Indicator Species" series. Each holds in its bill a limp rubber skin in the shape of a tombstone that bears the name of the duck species. An indicator species, in ecology parlance, can reveal the health of an entire ecosystem based on whether its population is thriving or suffering. In a single deft move, Stanford has combined issues of death, impending ecological catastrophe, trophyism and the culture of memorials. Would that all artists could say so much with so little.

On the opposite wall hang more trophies. This time, fish heads are mounted on abstract, colorful backgrounds contained in ornate gold frames. Inside each fish's open mouth sits a miniature scene of some disaster or conflict writ small with inch-tall figurines and set pieces: a toxic spill here, a bloody triage scene there. Each diorama is a totem of unrepentant hubris, humanity's pride and the fall before which it goeth.

Eyedrum's gallery space isn't easily tamed. Its raw warehouse trappings have overwhelmed many a well-meaning installation. That Stanford manages fully to command not one but two spaces – the entire rear gallery comprises a single, highly participatory work – is another testament to the artist's verve.

Stanford, a GSU sculpture professor and former biologist, fills an important role in Atlanta's creative culture. She combines a fearless intellectual engagement with an intense emphasis on craft. With Cryptoecology, Stanford joins a small cohort of such craft--concept heavy hitters that includes Robert Witherspoon, Corinna Sephora Mensoff and Kerry Moore. Someone get on the phone to Kassel: Ruth Stanford may be able to show them a thing or two."
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_raw"]=>
  string(2325) "Last summer, the international art press suffered a collective aneurism trying to figure out if artist Peter Friedl's 10-foot stuffed giraffe was art or mere taxidermy when it went on display at ''Documenta'', a major international art fair in Kassel, Germany. Ruth Stanford's ''Cryptoecology'' at Eyedrum unequivocally makes the point that the two need not be at odds if handled with insight and artistic bravura.

''Cryptoecology'' is built around a core of 17 sculptures and installation works, most of which feature faux animal parts gleaned from taxidermy catalogs and supply houses. A row of cast-resin duck heads mounted on wooden plaques comprises the "Indicator Species" series. Each holds in its bill a limp rubber skin in the shape of a tombstone that bears the name of the duck species. An indicator species, in ecology parlance, can reveal the health of an entire ecosystem based on whether its population is thriving or suffering. In a single deft move, Stanford has combined issues of death, impending ecological catastrophe, trophyism and the culture of memorials. Would that all artists could say so much with so little.

On the opposite wall hang more trophies. This time, fish heads are mounted on abstract, colorful backgrounds contained in ornate gold frames. Inside each fish's open mouth sits a miniature scene of some disaster or conflict writ small with inch-tall figurines and set pieces: a toxic spill here, a bloody triage scene there. Each diorama is a totem of unrepentant hubris, humanity's pride and the fall before which it goeth.

Eyedrum's gallery space isn't easily tamed. Its raw warehouse trappings have overwhelmed many a well-meaning installation. That Stanford manages fully to command not one but two spaces – the entire rear gallery comprises a single, highly participatory work – is another testament to the artist's verve.

Stanford, a GSU sculpture professor and former biologist, fills an important role in Atlanta's creative culture. She combines a fearless intellectual engagement with an intense emphasis on craft. With ''Cryptoecology'', Stanford joins a small cohort of such craft--concept heavy hitters that includes Robert Witherspoon, Corinna Sephora Mensoff and Kerry Moore. Someone get on the phone to Kassel: Ruth Stanford may be able to show them a thing or two."
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_creation_date"]=>
  string(25) "2018-01-20T19:39:04+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_modification_date"]=>
  string(25) "2018-01-20T19:39:04+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(3) "631"
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory_text"]=>
  string(3) "631"
  ["tracker_field_contentControlCategory"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_scene"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentNeighborhood"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelations_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelatedContent_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelatedWikiPages_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentBASEContentID"]=>
  string(8) "13028085"
  ["tracker_field_contentLegacyContentID"]=>
  string(7) "1275185"
  ["tracker_field_contentBASEAuthorID"]=>
  int(0)
  ["tracker_field_section"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["language"]=>
  string(7) "unknown"
  ["attachments"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["comment_count"]=>
  int(0)
  ["categories"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    int(581)
  }
  ["deep_categories"]=>
  array(3) {
    [0]=>
    int(242)
    [1]=>
    int(244)
    [2]=>
    int(581)
  }
  ["categories_under_28"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_28"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_1"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_1"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_177"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_177"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_209"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_209"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_163"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_163"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_171"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_171"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_153"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_153"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_242"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_242"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    int(244)
    [1]=>
    int(581)
  }
  ["categories_under_564"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_564"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_1182"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_1182"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["freetags"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["geo_located"]=>
  string(1) "n"
  ["allowed_groups"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(6) "Admins"
    [1]=>
    string(9) "Anonymous"
  }
  ["allowed_users"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relations"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relation_objects"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relation_types"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relation_count"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["title_initial"]=>
  string(1) "C"
  ["title_firstword"]=>
  string(13) "Cryptoecology"
  ["searchable"]=>
  string(1) "y"
  ["url"]=>
  string(10) "item180105"
  ["object_type"]=>
  string(11) "trackeritem"
  ["object_id"]=>
  string(6) "180105"
  ["contents"]=>
  string(2542) "    Ruth Stanford hunts for the truth   2008-09-03T04:04:00+00:00 Cryptoecology: Animal instinct   Cinque Hicks 1306447 2008-09-03T04:04:00+00:00  Last summer, the international art press suffered a collective aneurism trying to figure out if artist Peter Friedl's 10-foot stuffed giraffe was art or mere taxidermy when it went on display at Documenta, a major international art fair in Kassel, Germany. Ruth Stanford's Cryptoecology at Eyedrum unequivocally makes the point that the two need not be at odds if handled with insight and artistic bravura.

Cryptoecology is built around a core of 17 sculptures and installation works, most of which feature faux animal parts gleaned from taxidermy catalogs and supply houses. A row of cast-resin duck heads mounted on wooden plaques comprises the "Indicator Species" series. Each holds in its bill a limp rubber skin in the shape of a tombstone that bears the name of the duck species. An indicator species, in ecology parlance, can reveal the health of an entire ecosystem based on whether its population is thriving or suffering. In a single deft move, Stanford has combined issues of death, impending ecological catastrophe, trophyism and the culture of memorials. Would that all artists could say so much with so little.

On the opposite wall hang more trophies. This time, fish heads are mounted on abstract, colorful backgrounds contained in ornate gold frames. Inside each fish's open mouth sits a miniature scene of some disaster or conflict writ small with inch-tall figurines and set pieces: a toxic spill here, a bloody triage scene there. Each diorama is a totem of unrepentant hubris, humanity's pride and the fall before which it goeth.

Eyedrum's gallery space isn't easily tamed. Its raw warehouse trappings have overwhelmed many a well-meaning installation. That Stanford manages fully to command not one but two spaces – the entire rear gallery comprises a single, highly participatory work – is another testament to the artist's verve.

Stanford, a GSU sculpture professor and former biologist, fills an important role in Atlanta's creative culture. She combines a fearless intellectual engagement with an intense emphasis on craft. With Cryptoecology, Stanford joins a small cohort of such craft--concept heavy hitters that includes Robert Witherspoon, Corinna Sephora Mensoff and Kerry Moore. Someone get on the phone to Kassel: Ruth Stanford may be able to show them a thing or two.             13028085 1275185                          Cryptoecology: Animal instinct "
  ["score"]=>
  float(0)
  ["_index"]=>
  string(21) "atlantawiki_tiki_main"
  ["objectlink"]=>
  string(36) "No value for 'contentTitle'"
  ["photos"]=>
  string(130) "Coming Soon

"
  ["desc"]=>
  string(42) "Ruth Stanford hunts for the truth"
  ["chit_category"]=>
  string(11) "88"
}

Article

Wednesday September 3, 2008 12:04 am EDT
Ruth Stanford hunts for the truth | more...

array(79) {
  ["title"]=>
  string(31) "Ringling Brothers: Ring leaders"
  ["modification_date"]=>
  string(25) "2018-06-13T01:06:18+00:00"
  ["creation_date"]=>
  string(25) "2017-12-29T19:21:41+00:00"
  ["contributors"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(29) "ben.eason@creativeloafing.com"
  }
  ["date"]=>
  string(25) "2008-08-27T04:04:00+00:00"
  ["tracker_status"]=>
  string(1) "o"
  ["tracker_id"]=>
  string(2) "11"
  ["view_permission"]=>
  string(13) "view_trackers"
  ["tracker_field_contentTitle"]=>
  string(31) "Ringling Brothers: Ring leaders"
  ["tracker_field_contentByline"]=>
  string(12) "Cinque Hicks"
  ["tracker_field_contentByline_exact"]=>
  string(12) "Cinque Hicks"
  ["tracker_field_contentBylinePerson"]=>
  string(6) "146030"
  ["tracker_field_contentBylinePerson_text"]=>
  string(7) "1306447"
  ["tracker_field_description"]=>
  string(43) "Artists show a shared philosophy and school"
  ["tracker_field_description_raw"]=>
  string(43) "Artists show a shared philosophy and school"
  ["tracker_field_contentDate"]=>
  string(25) "2008-08-27T04:04:00+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage"]=>
  string(41) "Content:_:Ringling Brothers: Ring leaders"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_text"]=>
  string(2366) "Steven Dixey's "Nemesis, Goddess of Divine Retribution," on view at Beep Beep Gallery, would be easy to misread. The small, acrylic painting depicts the multiarmed goddess clutching instruments of justice and punishment: a cat o' nine tails, a sword, a set of balance scales. Shadowed in deep chiaroscuro, she spreads her dark wings under an ominous sky as she tramples on a surprised unfortunate — Dixey's self-portrait — who flails uselessly at the empty air.

But don't be misled. In ancient lore, Nemesis doesn't just settle personal scores. She sets the cosmic scales right by socking it to history's winners and golden children.

If Dixey and the other five artists in Beep Beep's Ringling Brothers exhibit share anything beyond the alma mater Ringling College of Art and Design in Sarasota, Fla., it's a percolating anti-establishment ethos. Like Nemesis, they don't mind tripping up a few art-world high horses, and wearing their lowbrow influences – tattoo art, pop illustration, graphic design – on their collective sleeve.

Sat Kirpal Khalsa mines both his youth in Puerto Rico and his devotion to a bicycle lifestyle to create countercultural icons with India ink. An old Ford pickup truck's "American Made" label has been altered to read "Latino American Modified" – also the drawing's title. Chromed-out lettering spells "Born 2 Roll" in "F.V.K. the Latino Party." Khalsa imbues each piece with just a touch of lo-fi awkwardness, leaving erasures visible and lines unresolved. The raw impulse matters here rather than the niceties of art.

At the opposite end of the spectrum, Matt Relkin meticulously works the surfaces of his paintings and drawings with mathematical precision. His images of absurd rainbows in black skies are concentrated augurs that all is not well. Doom and hope are simultaneous and permanent features of the landscape.

Atlanta has no shortage of hipster group shows bursting forth from hipster galleries. What's new, however, is that the underground aesthetics of lowbrow, decorative and pop expressionism once located squarely outside of the fine art education system, appear to have fully infiltrated it. A half generation ago, a motley crew of graf writers and skateboarders could barely spell BFA. Ringling Brothers shows that a new generation's redefining what such alphabet soup means.

arts@creativeloafing.com"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_raw"]=>
  string(2412) "Steven Dixey's "Nemesis, Goddess of Divine Retribution," on view at Beep Beep Gallery, would be easy to misread. The small, acrylic painting depicts the multiarmed goddess clutching instruments of justice and punishment: a cat o' nine tails, a sword, a set of balance scales. Shadowed in deep chiaroscuro, she spreads her dark wings under an ominous sky as she tramples on a surprised unfortunate — Dixey's self-portrait — who flails uselessly at the empty air.

But don't be misled. In ancient lore, Nemesis doesn't just settle personal scores. She sets the cosmic scales right by socking it to history's winners and golden children.

If Dixey and the other five artists in Beep Beep's ''Ringling Brothers'' exhibit share anything beyond the alma mater Ringling College of Art and Design in Sarasota, Fla., it's a percolating anti-establishment ethos. Like Nemesis, they don't mind tripping up a few art-world high horses, and wearing their lowbrow influences – tattoo art, pop illustration, graphic design – on their collective sleeve.

Sat Kirpal Khalsa mines both his youth in Puerto Rico and his devotion to a bicycle lifestyle to create countercultural icons with India ink. An old Ford pickup truck's "American Made" label has been altered to read "Latino American Modified" – also the drawing's title. Chromed-out lettering spells "Born 2 Roll" in "F.V.K. the Latino Party." Khalsa imbues each piece with just a touch of lo-fi awkwardness, leaving erasures visible and lines unresolved. The raw impulse matters here rather than the niceties of art.

At the opposite end of the spectrum, Matt Relkin meticulously works the surfaces of his paintings and drawings with mathematical precision. His images of absurd rainbows in black skies are concentrated augurs that all is not well. Doom and hope are simultaneous and permanent features of the landscape.

Atlanta has no shortage of hipster group shows bursting forth from hipster galleries. What's new, however, is that the underground aesthetics of lowbrow, decorative and pop expressionism once located squarely outside of the fine art education system, appear to have fully infiltrated it. A half generation ago, a motley crew of graf writers and skateboarders could barely spell BFA. ''Ringling Brothers'' shows that a new generation's redefining what such alphabet soup means.

''[mailto:arts@creativeloafing.com|arts@creativeloafing.com]''"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_creation_date"]=>
  string(25) "2018-01-20T19:39:04+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_modification_date"]=>
  string(25) "2018-01-20T19:39:04+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(3) "631"
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory_text"]=>
  string(3) "631"
  ["tracker_field_contentControlCategory"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_scene"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentNeighborhood"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelations_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelatedContent_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelatedWikiPages_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentBASEContentID"]=>
  string(8) "13028038"
  ["tracker_field_contentLegacyContentID"]=>
  string(7) "1274996"
  ["tracker_field_contentBASEAuthorID"]=>
  int(0)
  ["tracker_field_section"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["language"]=>
  string(7) "unknown"
  ["attachments"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["comment_count"]=>
  int(0)
  ["categories"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    int(581)
  }
  ["deep_categories"]=>
  array(3) {
    [0]=>
    int(242)
    [1]=>
    int(244)
    [2]=>
    int(581)
  }
  ["categories_under_28"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_28"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_1"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_1"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_177"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_177"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_209"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_209"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_163"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_163"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_171"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_171"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_153"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_153"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_242"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_242"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    int(244)
    [1]=>
    int(581)
  }
  ["categories_under_564"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_564"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_1182"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_1182"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["freetags"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["geo_located"]=>
  string(1) "n"
  ["allowed_groups"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(6) "Admins"
    [1]=>
    string(9) "Anonymous"
  }
  ["allowed_users"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relations"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relation_objects"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relation_types"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relation_count"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["title_initial"]=>
  string(1) "R"
  ["title_firstword"]=>
  string(8) "Ringling"
  ["searchable"]=>
  string(1) "y"
  ["url"]=>
  string(10) "item180104"
  ["object_type"]=>
  string(11) "trackeritem"
  ["object_id"]=>
  string(6) "180104"
  ["contents"]=>
  string(2611) "    Artists show a shared philosophy and school   2008-08-27T04:04:00+00:00 Ringling Brothers: Ring leaders   Cinque Hicks 1306447 2008-08-27T04:04:00+00:00  Steven Dixey's "Nemesis, Goddess of Divine Retribution," on view at Beep Beep Gallery, would be easy to misread. The small, acrylic painting depicts the multiarmed goddess clutching instruments of justice and punishment: a cat o' nine tails, a sword, a set of balance scales. Shadowed in deep chiaroscuro, she spreads her dark wings under an ominous sky as she tramples on a surprised unfortunate — Dixey's self-portrait — who flails uselessly at the empty air.

But don't be misled. In ancient lore, Nemesis doesn't just settle personal scores. She sets the cosmic scales right by socking it to history's winners and golden children.

If Dixey and the other five artists in Beep Beep's Ringling Brothers exhibit share anything beyond the alma mater Ringling College of Art and Design in Sarasota, Fla., it's a percolating anti-establishment ethos. Like Nemesis, they don't mind tripping up a few art-world high horses, and wearing their lowbrow influences – tattoo art, pop illustration, graphic design – on their collective sleeve.

Sat Kirpal Khalsa mines both his youth in Puerto Rico and his devotion to a bicycle lifestyle to create countercultural icons with India ink. An old Ford pickup truck's "American Made" label has been altered to read "Latino American Modified" – also the drawing's title. Chromed-out lettering spells "Born 2 Roll" in "F.V.K. the Latino Party." Khalsa imbues each piece with just a touch of lo-fi awkwardness, leaving erasures visible and lines unresolved. The raw impulse matters here rather than the niceties of art.

At the opposite end of the spectrum, Matt Relkin meticulously works the surfaces of his paintings and drawings with mathematical precision. His images of absurd rainbows in black skies are concentrated augurs that all is not well. Doom and hope are simultaneous and permanent features of the landscape.

Atlanta has no shortage of hipster group shows bursting forth from hipster galleries. What's new, however, is that the underground aesthetics of lowbrow, decorative and pop expressionism once located squarely outside of the fine art education system, appear to have fully infiltrated it. A half generation ago, a motley crew of graf writers and skateboarders could barely spell BFA. Ringling Brothers shows that a new generation's redefining what such alphabet soup means.

arts@creativeloafing.com             13028038 1274996                          Ringling Brothers: Ring leaders "
  ["score"]=>
  float(0)
  ["_index"]=>
  string(21) "atlantawiki_tiki_main"
  ["objectlink"]=>
  string(36) "No value for 'contentTitle'"
  ["photos"]=>
  string(130) "Coming Soon

"
  ["desc"]=>
  string(52) "Artists show a shared philosophy and school"
  ["chit_category"]=>
  string(11) "88"
}

Article

Wednesday August 27, 2008 12:04 am EDT
Artists show a shared philosophy and school | more...
array(79) {
  ["title"]=>
  string(38) "Telling It Like It Is: Image conscious"
  ["modification_date"]=>
  string(25) "2018-06-16T00:46:25+00:00"
  ["creation_date"]=>
  string(25) "2017-12-29T19:21:41+00:00"
  ["contributors"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(29) "ben.eason@creativeloafing.com"
  }
  ["date"]=>
  string(25) "2008-08-13T04:04:00+00:00"
  ["tracker_status"]=>
  string(1) "o"
  ["tracker_id"]=>
  string(2) "11"
  ["view_permission"]=>
  string(13) "view_trackers"
  ["tracker_field_contentTitle"]=>
  string(38) "Telling It Like It Is: Image conscious"
  ["tracker_field_contentByline"]=>
  string(12) "Cinque Hicks"
  ["tracker_field_contentByline_exact"]=>
  string(12) "Cinque Hicks"
  ["tracker_field_contentBylinePerson"]=>
  string(6) "146030"
  ["tracker_field_contentBylinePerson_text"]=>
  string(7) "1306447"
  ["tracker_field_description"]=>
  string(63) "Printmaker Curlee Raven Holton examines the myth of appearances"
  ["tracker_field_description_raw"]=>
  string(63) "Printmaker Curlee Raven Holton examines the myth of appearances"
  ["tracker_field_contentDate"]=>
  string(25) "2008-08-13T04:04:00+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage"]=>
  string(48) "Content:_:Telling It Like It Is: Image conscious"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_text"]=>
  string(2373) "Curlee Raven Holton intends to burrow beneath the skin. In his current exhibition at Hammonds House Museum, Telling It Like It Is, Holton's works flay the myth of appearances from the inside out.

"The X's and the Y's" (1992) is a case in point. The small cut-plate etching hangs inconspicuously at the foot of the stairs. Its eccentric composition features a row of identically clad, black-draped figures throwing up what might be crudely rendered gang signs. Their faces are covered save for barely visible eyeholes, and each wears a cap marked with the letter X. They might be the Crips of L.A., or they could be the Bloods. Or maybe a row of burqa-wearing Iraqi women, or radical environmentalists. They're anything and everything – as generic as the letter X – and together, they elegantly stand in for any fearsome, ineffable group who "all look alike" to us.

Holton's a master printmaker who founded the Experimental Printmaking Institute at Easton, Pa.'s Lafayette College in 1996. Most of the show's two dozen prints reveal not only Holton's command of an astonishing array of printmaking methods – monoprint, etching, lithography, serigraphy – but also his finely tuned eye for the contradictions of culture, history and constructed identities.

For a pair of triptychs titled "Man Mask Meaning" (1993), Holton juxtaposes a Klan mask and a black cutout face with monochromatic fields of subtle off-black and off-white. He makes obvious what's often overlooked: that "black" and "white" are convenient masks and labels that hide as much as they reveal.

If the show's early prints are philosophical atom bombs, the three most recent works from 2002--2004 are mere firecrackers. Drenched in color, the compositions are less taut. Holton's earlier evocative lines and brush strokes, as well as specific, charged imagery, are all but lost in a profusion of mechanical marks and symbols of a generic multiculturalism. Fortunately, the rest of the show more than makes up for the weak patch.

Telling It Like It Is is concerned with so much more than naming victims and perpetrators in the ongoing American drama of race. Instead of focusing on the tribulations of a culture, Holton focuses on the dangers of perceiving cultures. He gives voice to the tragedy of being misseen and misconstrued. And that corrodes us all, black, white and everything in between."
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_raw"]=>
  string(2381) "Curlee Raven Holton intends to burrow beneath the skin. In his current exhibition at Hammonds House Museum, ''Telling It Like It Is'', Holton's works flay the myth of appearances from the inside out.

"The X's and the Y's" (1992) is a case in point. The small cut-plate etching hangs inconspicuously at the foot of the stairs. Its eccentric composition features a row of identically clad, black-draped figures throwing up what might be crudely rendered gang signs. Their faces are covered save for barely visible eyeholes, and each wears a cap marked with the letter X. They might be the Crips of L.A., or they could be the Bloods. Or maybe a row of burqa-wearing Iraqi women, or radical environmentalists. They're anything and everything – as generic as the letter X – and together, they elegantly stand in for any fearsome, ineffable group who "all look alike" to us.

Holton's a master printmaker who founded the Experimental Printmaking Institute at Easton, Pa.'s Lafayette College in 1996. Most of the show's two dozen prints reveal not only Holton's command of an astonishing array of printmaking methods – monoprint, etching, lithography, serigraphy – but also his finely tuned eye for the contradictions of culture, history and constructed identities.

For a pair of triptychs titled "Man Mask Meaning" (1993), Holton juxtaposes a Klan mask and a black cutout face with monochromatic fields of subtle off-black and off-white. He makes obvious what's often overlooked: that "black" and "white" are convenient masks and labels that hide as much as they reveal.

If the show's early prints are philosophical atom bombs, the three most recent works from 2002--2004 are mere firecrackers. Drenched in color, the compositions are less taut. Holton's earlier evocative lines and brush strokes, as well as specific, charged imagery, are all but lost in a profusion of mechanical marks and symbols of a generic multiculturalism. Fortunately, the rest of the show more than makes up for the weak patch.

''Telling It Like It Is'' is concerned with so much more than naming victims and perpetrators in the ongoing American drama of race. Instead of focusing on the tribulations of a culture, Holton focuses on the dangers of perceiving cultures. He gives voice to the tragedy of being misseen and misconstrued. And that corrodes us all, black, white and everything in between."
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_creation_date"]=>
  string(25) "2018-01-20T19:39:04+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_modification_date"]=>
  string(25) "2018-01-20T19:39:04+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(3) "631"
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory_text"]=>
  string(3) "631"
  ["tracker_field_contentControlCategory"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_scene"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentNeighborhood"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelations_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelatedContent_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelatedWikiPages_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentBASEContentID"]=>
  string(8) "13027916"
  ["tracker_field_contentLegacyContentID"]=>
  string(7) "1274750"
  ["tracker_field_contentBASEAuthorID"]=>
  int(0)
  ["tracker_field_section"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["language"]=>
  string(7) "unknown"
  ["attachments"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["comment_count"]=>
  int(0)
  ["categories"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    int(581)
  }
  ["deep_categories"]=>
  array(3) {
    [0]=>
    int(242)
    [1]=>
    int(244)
    [2]=>
    int(581)
  }
  ["categories_under_28"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_28"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_1"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_1"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_177"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_177"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_209"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_209"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_163"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_163"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_171"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_171"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_153"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_153"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_242"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_242"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    int(244)
    [1]=>
    int(581)
  }
  ["categories_under_564"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_564"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_1182"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_1182"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["freetags"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["geo_located"]=>
  string(1) "n"
  ["allowed_groups"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(6) "Admins"
    [1]=>
    string(9) "Anonymous"
  }
  ["allowed_users"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relations"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relation_objects"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relation_types"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relation_count"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["title_initial"]=>
  string(1) "T"
  ["title_firstword"]=>
  string(7) "Telling"
  ["searchable"]=>
  string(1) "y"
  ["url"]=>
  string(10) "item180103"
  ["object_type"]=>
  string(11) "trackeritem"
  ["object_id"]=>
  string(6) "180103"
  ["contents"]=>
  string(2652) "    Printmaker Curlee Raven Holton examines the myth of appearances   2008-08-13T04:04:00+00:00 Telling It Like It Is: Image conscious   Cinque Hicks 1306447 2008-08-13T04:04:00+00:00  Curlee Raven Holton intends to burrow beneath the skin. In his current exhibition at Hammonds House Museum, Telling It Like It Is, Holton's works flay the myth of appearances from the inside out.

"The X's and the Y's" (1992) is a case in point. The small cut-plate etching hangs inconspicuously at the foot of the stairs. Its eccentric composition features a row of identically clad, black-draped figures throwing up what might be crudely rendered gang signs. Their faces are covered save for barely visible eyeholes, and each wears a cap marked with the letter X. They might be the Crips of L.A., or they could be the Bloods. Or maybe a row of burqa-wearing Iraqi women, or radical environmentalists. They're anything and everything – as generic as the letter X – and together, they elegantly stand in for any fearsome, ineffable group who "all look alike" to us.

Holton's a master printmaker who founded the Experimental Printmaking Institute at Easton, Pa.'s Lafayette College in 1996. Most of the show's two dozen prints reveal not only Holton's command of an astonishing array of printmaking methods – monoprint, etching, lithography, serigraphy – but also his finely tuned eye for the contradictions of culture, history and constructed identities.

For a pair of triptychs titled "Man Mask Meaning" (1993), Holton juxtaposes a Klan mask and a black cutout face with monochromatic fields of subtle off-black and off-white. He makes obvious what's often overlooked: that "black" and "white" are convenient masks and labels that hide as much as they reveal.

If the show's early prints are philosophical atom bombs, the three most recent works from 2002--2004 are mere firecrackers. Drenched in color, the compositions are less taut. Holton's earlier evocative lines and brush strokes, as well as specific, charged imagery, are all but lost in a profusion of mechanical marks and symbols of a generic multiculturalism. Fortunately, the rest of the show more than makes up for the weak patch.

Telling It Like It Is is concerned with so much more than naming victims and perpetrators in the ongoing American drama of race. Instead of focusing on the tribulations of a culture, Holton focuses on the dangers of perceiving cultures. He gives voice to the tragedy of being misseen and misconstrued. And that corrodes us all, black, white and everything in between.             13027916 1274750                          Telling It Like It Is: Image conscious "
  ["score"]=>
  float(0)
  ["_index"]=>
  string(21) "atlantawiki_tiki_main"
  ["objectlink"]=>
  string(36) "No value for 'contentTitle'"
  ["photos"]=>
  string(130) "Coming Soon

"
  ["desc"]=>
  string(72) "Printmaker Curlee Raven Holton examines the myth of appearances"
  ["chit_category"]=>
  string(11) "88"
}

Article

Wednesday August 13, 2008 12:04 am EDT
Printmaker Curlee Raven Holton examines the myth of appearances | more...
array(79) {
  ["title"]=>
  string(24) "Art House: Group efforts"
  ["modification_date"]=>
  string(25) "2018-06-16T01:41:53+00:00"
  ["creation_date"]=>
  string(25) "2017-12-29T19:21:41+00:00"
  ["contributors"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(29) "ben.eason@creativeloafing.com"
  }
  ["date"]=>
  string(25) "2008-08-06T04:04:00+00:00"
  ["tracker_status"]=>
  string(1) "o"
  ["tracker_id"]=>
  string(2) "11"
  ["view_permission"]=>
  string(13) "view_trackers"
  ["tracker_field_contentTitle"]=>
  string(24) "Art House: Group efforts"
  ["tracker_field_contentByline"]=>
  string(12) "Cinque Hicks"
  ["tracker_field_contentByline_exact"]=>
  string(12) "Cinque Hicks"
  ["tracker_field_contentBylinePerson"]=>
  string(6) "146030"
  ["tracker_field_contentBylinePerson_text"]=>
  string(7) "1306447"
  ["tracker_field_description"]=>
  string(43) "Local gallery gives the power to the people"
  ["tracker_field_description_raw"]=>
  string(43) "Local gallery gives the power to the people"
  ["tracker_field_contentDate"]=>
  string(25) "2008-08-06T04:04:00+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage"]=>
  string(34) "Content:_:Art House: Group efforts"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_text"]=>
  string(5603) "Shane Zucker stands in sharp contrast to his own gallery. He's a bearded 22-year-old graphic designer with a palpable DIY vibe, while the Art House's big, clean-white-box space bespeaks art-world polish and high modernism. Zucker's half of the two-man team that runs Art House, a co-op and art gallery headquartered in the space that, until recently, housed Sam Romo Gallery, one of Castleberry Hill's signature art spaces. Meanwhile, the team's other half, 22-year-old Steven Peterman, is just a disembodied voice. He's in London on vacation, and we speak over a temperamental Skype connection as trains barrel through in the background.

Art House opened for business as a pay-for-play gallery in Decatur in 2005, but became a curated space within a few months, after launching the first of several art projects with a nationwide scope. The gallery moved downtown to Mitchell Street in 2007, where it added a small print shop and six artist studios. The current Peters Street location followed last July. Today its projects have included more than 3,000 artists worldwide, making Art House part of a nucleus of art organizations more concerned with community than commerce.

During the pseudo-cyber interview, it becomes clear that Peterman and Zucker are accustomed to working in the virtual realm. They're adept at maintaining a conversation despite Skype's constant attempts to derail it, and that's no surprise. They've been using the Internet and social networking as organizational tools for their projects since the early days when they founded Art House while undergraduates at SCAD. One such project, A Million Little Pictures, was powered largely by Internet word of mouth and Craigslist postings, and drew 200 or more participants from around the country for each of its three incarnations. And that was with a $16 participation fee, Art House's heftiest entry fee by a long shot.

"Yeah, we feel guilty every time we have an entry fee," Zucker says, biting his nails. Their fees typically run around $6. But all the money goes back into running the gallery, which only recently become self-sustaining.

"We never pay ourselves for any of this," Peterman says. "We do the shows because we want to go to them." When asked about their business plan, Peterman responds, "We hope to ... keep ... getting money." Zucker laughs out loud.

Art House's central mission is as much about community building as it is about art. In many ways, Peterman and Zucker see art as the vehicle for building community rather than the final result.

For the most recent A Million Little Pictures, prospective participants who signed on at the Art House website received disposable cameras, took photos on the theme of "adventures," and then sent the cameras back. Peterman and Zucker promised to hold the show in the city that submitted the most entries. San Francisco came away the winner with 5,400 of the total 16,300 entries, and the exhibit, which included 2,500 photos, was held at they city's 111 Minna Gallery. Pictures follows the Art House formula of using the connective tissue of cyberspace to transform mass participation into a form of artistic expression visible in the real world of walls and galleries.

"We wanted to open up to everybody," Peterman says. "It doesn't matter if you've been doing art for years, or if you've never picked up a paint brush. We just want to give people a chance to participate."

It was just a matter of time before the logic of Facebook infiltrated the art world. Communities have always been based on who knows who knows who – mail art goes back to at least the '60s. But with the rise of Web-based social networking, it now seems normal for massive groups of strangers to get together, co-create a single event and then disperse to recombine in ever-changing affinity groups. Art House makes it evident that the so-called digital natives – those like Peterman and Zucker of a generation that barely remembers a time before ubiquitous digital media – are bringing new models of organization with them as they take on more important roles in the art world.

Art House's curated gallery exhibitions, which run in addition to the nationwide projects, likewise demonstrate a community-based philosophy. As Zucker shows off Mikaela Sheldt's massive, emotional oil portraits and Lucha's surrealism-inflected "creature" prints, it's clear that showcasing young unknowns is a primary goal. Though surprisingly accomplished, both artists are still in school, and Sheldt is one of Art House's six Mitchell Street studio artists.

The gallery's next show takes the idea of community to an international level with The Sketchbook Project, in which participating artists have filled up sketchbooks on the theme "How to Save the World." Remarkably, 90 of the project's 500 participants hail from outside the United States.

Art House is part of a growing core of community network-oriented art organizations and spaces experiencing a resurgence in Atlanta after years of dormancy. Art activist organizations such as Wonderroot and Red Cielo; populist art events such as Art Beats + Lyrics and the Indie Craft Experience; and galleries with explicitly community-based missions such as Beep! Beep! and MINT appear to be on the ascent.

It's too early to say whether this constitutes a sea change, but Peterman and Zucker may be harbingers of a younger generation's way of doing things. They see their role less as gatekeepers and more as shepherds to a growing flock. "We love the art community of Atlanta," Peterman says. "We love how it's growing and what it's becoming.""
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_raw"]=>
  string(5619) "Shane Zucker stands in sharp contrast to his own gallery. He's a bearded 22-year-old graphic designer with a palpable DIY vibe, while the Art House's big, clean-white-box space bespeaks art-world polish and high modernism. Zucker's half of the two-man team that runs Art House, a co-op and art gallery headquartered in the space that, until recently, housed Sam Romo Gallery, one of Castleberry Hill's signature art spaces. Meanwhile, the team's other half, 22-year-old Steven Peterman, is just a disembodied voice. He's in London on vacation, and we speak over a temperamental Skype connection as trains barrel through in the background.

Art House opened for business as a pay-for-play gallery in Decatur in 2005, but became a curated space within a few months, after launching the first of several art projects with a nationwide scope. The gallery moved downtown to Mitchell Street in 2007, where it added a small print shop and six artist studios. The current Peters Street location followed last July. Today its projects have included more than 3,000 artists worldwide, making Art House part of a nucleus of art organizations more concerned with community than commerce.

During the pseudo-cyber interview, it becomes clear that Peterman and Zucker are accustomed to working in the virtual realm. They're adept at maintaining a conversation despite Skype's constant attempts to derail it, and that's no surprise. They've been using the Internet and social networking as organizational tools for their projects since the early days when they founded Art House while undergraduates at SCAD. One such project, ''A Million Little Pictures'', was powered largely by Internet word of mouth and Craigslist postings, and drew 200 or more participants from around the country for each of its three incarnations. And that was with a $16 participation fee, Art House's heftiest entry fee by a long shot.

"Yeah, we feel guilty every time we have an entry fee," Zucker says, biting his nails. Their fees typically run around $6. But all the money goes back into running the gallery, which only recently become self-sustaining.

"We never pay ourselves for any of this," Peterman says. "We do the shows because we want to go to them." When asked about their business plan, Peterman responds, "We hope to ... keep ... getting money." Zucker laughs out loud.

Art House's central mission is as much about community building as it is about art. In many ways, Peterman and Zucker see art as the vehicle for building community rather than the final result.

For the most recent ''A Million Little Pictures'', prospective participants who signed on at the Art House website received disposable cameras, took photos on the theme of "adventures," and then sent the cameras back. Peterman and Zucker promised to hold the show in the city that submitted the most entries. San Francisco came away the winner with 5,400 of the total 16,300 entries, and the exhibit, which included 2,500 photos, was held at they city's 111 Minna Gallery. ''Pictures'' follows the Art House formula of using the connective tissue of cyberspace to transform mass participation into a form of artistic expression visible in the real world of walls and galleries.

"We wanted to open up to everybody," Peterman says. "It doesn't matter if you've been doing art for years, or if you've never picked up a paint brush. We just want to give people a chance to participate."

It was just a matter of time before the logic of Facebook infiltrated the art world. Communities have always been based on who knows who knows who – mail art goes back to at least the '60s. But with the rise of Web-based social networking, it now seems normal for massive groups of strangers to get together, co-create a single event and then disperse to recombine in ever-changing affinity groups. Art House makes it evident that the so-called digital natives – those like Peterman and Zucker of a generation that barely remembers a time before ubiquitous digital media – are bringing new models of organization with them as they take on more important roles in the art world.

Art House's curated gallery exhibitions, which run in addition to the nationwide projects, likewise demonstrate a community-based philosophy. As Zucker shows off Mikaela Sheldt's massive, emotional oil portraits and Lucha's surrealism-inflected "creature" prints, it's clear that showcasing young unknowns is a primary goal. Though surprisingly accomplished, both artists are still in school, and Sheldt is one of Art House's six Mitchell Street studio artists.

The gallery's next show takes the idea of community to an international level with ''The Sketchbook Project'', in which participating artists have filled up sketchbooks on the theme "How to Save the World." Remarkably, 90 of the project's 500 participants hail from outside the United States.

Art House is part of a growing core of community network-oriented art organizations and spaces experiencing a resurgence in Atlanta after years of dormancy. Art activist organizations such as Wonderroot and Red Cielo; populist art events such as Art Beats + Lyrics and the Indie Craft Experience; and galleries with explicitly community-based missions such as Beep! Beep! and MINT appear to be on the ascent.

It's too early to say whether this constitutes a sea change, but Peterman and Zucker may be harbingers of a younger generation's way of doing things. They see their role less as gatekeepers and more as shepherds to a growing flock. "We love the art community of Atlanta," Peterman says. "We love how it's growing and what it's becoming.""
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_creation_date"]=>
  string(25) "2018-01-20T19:39:04+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_modification_date"]=>
  string(25) "2018-01-20T19:39:04+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(3) "631"
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory_text"]=>
  string(3) "631"
  ["tracker_field_contentControlCategory"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_scene"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentNeighborhood"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelations_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelatedContent_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelatedWikiPages_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentBASEContentID"]=>
  string(8) "13027866"
  ["tracker_field_contentLegacyContentID"]=>
  string(7) "1274644"
  ["tracker_field_contentBASEAuthorID"]=>
  int(0)
  ["tracker_field_section"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["language"]=>
  string(7) "unknown"
  ["attachments"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["comment_count"]=>
  int(0)
  ["categories"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    int(581)
  }
  ["deep_categories"]=>
  array(3) {
    [0]=>
    int(242)
    [1]=>
    int(244)
    [2]=>
    int(581)
  }
  ["categories_under_28"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_28"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_1"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_1"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_177"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_177"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_209"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_209"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_163"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_163"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_171"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_171"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_153"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_153"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_242"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_242"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    int(244)
    [1]=>
    int(581)
  }
  ["categories_under_564"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_564"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_1182"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_1182"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["freetags"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["geo_located"]=>
  string(1) "n"
  ["allowed_groups"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(6) "Admins"
    [1]=>
    string(9) "Anonymous"
  }
  ["allowed_users"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relations"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relation_objects"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relation_types"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relation_count"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["title_initial"]=>
  string(1) "A"
  ["title_firstword"]=>
  string(3) "Art"
  ["searchable"]=>
  string(1) "y"
  ["url"]=>
  string(10) "item180102"
  ["object_type"]=>
  string(11) "trackeritem"
  ["object_id"]=>
  string(6) "180102"
  ["contents"]=>
  string(5834) "    Local gallery gives the power to the people   2008-08-06T04:04:00+00:00 Art House: Group efforts   Cinque Hicks 1306447 2008-08-06T04:04:00+00:00  Shane Zucker stands in sharp contrast to his own gallery. He's a bearded 22-year-old graphic designer with a palpable DIY vibe, while the Art House's big, clean-white-box space bespeaks art-world polish and high modernism. Zucker's half of the two-man team that runs Art House, a co-op and art gallery headquartered in the space that, until recently, housed Sam Romo Gallery, one of Castleberry Hill's signature art spaces. Meanwhile, the team's other half, 22-year-old Steven Peterman, is just a disembodied voice. He's in London on vacation, and we speak over a temperamental Skype connection as trains barrel through in the background.

Art House opened for business as a pay-for-play gallery in Decatur in 2005, but became a curated space within a few months, after launching the first of several art projects with a nationwide scope. The gallery moved downtown to Mitchell Street in 2007, where it added a small print shop and six artist studios. The current Peters Street location followed last July. Today its projects have included more than 3,000 artists worldwide, making Art House part of a nucleus of art organizations more concerned with community than commerce.

During the pseudo-cyber interview, it becomes clear that Peterman and Zucker are accustomed to working in the virtual realm. They're adept at maintaining a conversation despite Skype's constant attempts to derail it, and that's no surprise. They've been using the Internet and social networking as organizational tools for their projects since the early days when they founded Art House while undergraduates at SCAD. One such project, A Million Little Pictures, was powered largely by Internet word of mouth and Craigslist postings, and drew 200 or more participants from around the country for each of its three incarnations. And that was with a $16 participation fee, Art House's heftiest entry fee by a long shot.

"Yeah, we feel guilty every time we have an entry fee," Zucker says, biting his nails. Their fees typically run around $6. But all the money goes back into running the gallery, which only recently become self-sustaining.

"We never pay ourselves for any of this," Peterman says. "We do the shows because we want to go to them." When asked about their business plan, Peterman responds, "We hope to ... keep ... getting money." Zucker laughs out loud.

Art House's central mission is as much about community building as it is about art. In many ways, Peterman and Zucker see art as the vehicle for building community rather than the final result.

For the most recent A Million Little Pictures, prospective participants who signed on at the Art House website received disposable cameras, took photos on the theme of "adventures," and then sent the cameras back. Peterman and Zucker promised to hold the show in the city that submitted the most entries. San Francisco came away the winner with 5,400 of the total 16,300 entries, and the exhibit, which included 2,500 photos, was held at they city's 111 Minna Gallery. Pictures follows the Art House formula of using the connective tissue of cyberspace to transform mass participation into a form of artistic expression visible in the real world of walls and galleries.

"We wanted to open up to everybody," Peterman says. "It doesn't matter if you've been doing art for years, or if you've never picked up a paint brush. We just want to give people a chance to participate."

It was just a matter of time before the logic of Facebook infiltrated the art world. Communities have always been based on who knows who knows who – mail art goes back to at least the '60s. But with the rise of Web-based social networking, it now seems normal for massive groups of strangers to get together, co-create a single event and then disperse to recombine in ever-changing affinity groups. Art House makes it evident that the so-called digital natives – those like Peterman and Zucker of a generation that barely remembers a time before ubiquitous digital media – are bringing new models of organization with them as they take on more important roles in the art world.

Art House's curated gallery exhibitions, which run in addition to the nationwide projects, likewise demonstrate a community-based philosophy. As Zucker shows off Mikaela Sheldt's massive, emotional oil portraits and Lucha's surrealism-inflected "creature" prints, it's clear that showcasing young unknowns is a primary goal. Though surprisingly accomplished, both artists are still in school, and Sheldt is one of Art House's six Mitchell Street studio artists.

The gallery's next show takes the idea of community to an international level with The Sketchbook Project, in which participating artists have filled up sketchbooks on the theme "How to Save the World." Remarkably, 90 of the project's 500 participants hail from outside the United States.

Art House is part of a growing core of community network-oriented art organizations and spaces experiencing a resurgence in Atlanta after years of dormancy. Art activist organizations such as Wonderroot and Red Cielo; populist art events such as Art Beats + Lyrics and the Indie Craft Experience; and galleries with explicitly community-based missions such as Beep! Beep! and MINT appear to be on the ascent.

It's too early to say whether this constitutes a sea change, but Peterman and Zucker may be harbingers of a younger generation's way of doing things. They see their role less as gatekeepers and more as shepherds to a growing flock. "We love the art community of Atlanta," Peterman says. "We love how it's growing and what it's becoming."             13027866 1274644                          Art House: Group efforts "
  ["score"]=>
  float(0)
  ["_index"]=>
  string(21) "atlantawiki_tiki_main"
  ["objectlink"]=>
  string(36) "No value for 'contentTitle'"
  ["photos"]=>
  string(130) "Coming Soon

"
  ["desc"]=>
  string(52) "Local gallery gives the power to the people"
  ["chit_category"]=>
  string(11) "88"
}

Article

Wednesday August 6, 2008 12:04 am EDT
Local gallery gives the power to the people | more...
array(79) {
  ["title"]=>
  string(11) "Dark Clouds"
  ["modification_date"]=>
  string(25) "2018-06-16T00:33:21+00:00"
  ["creation_date"]=>
  string(25) "2017-12-29T19:21:41+00:00"
  ["contributors"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(29) "ben.eason@creativeloafing.com"
  }
  ["date"]=>
  string(25) "2008-07-30T04:04:00+00:00"
  ["tracker_status"]=>
  string(1) "o"
  ["tracker_id"]=>
  string(2) "11"
  ["view_permission"]=>
  string(13) "view_trackers"
  ["tracker_field_contentTitle"]=>
  string(11) "Dark Clouds"
  ["tracker_field_contentByline"]=>
  string(12) "Cinque Hicks"
  ["tracker_field_contentByline_exact"]=>
  string(12) "Cinque Hicks"
  ["tracker_field_contentBylinePerson"]=>
  string(6) "146030"
  ["tracker_field_contentBylinePerson_text"]=>
  string(7) "1306447"
  ["tracker_field_description"]=>
  string(38) "Ian Teh's photographs at Kiang Gallery"
  ["tracker_field_description_raw"]=>
  string(38) "Ian Teh's photographs at Kiang Gallery"
  ["tracker_field_contentDate"]=>
  string(25) "2008-07-30T04:04:00+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage"]=>
  string(21) "Content:_:Dark Clouds"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_text"]=>
  string(2190) "Every four years, the Olympics force a major world city to transform into a massive, sanitized diorama of itself. As Beijing cranks up its international PR machines, Ian Teh's bleak, murky photographs at Kiang Gallery will no doubt inoculate some against the steady stream of shimmering corporate gloss served up from the rising giant in the East.

The 19 color photos in Teh's Dark Clouds collection peel back the glittery surface of China's economic renaissance and reveal the coal-encrusted gears that power it. "Steel Plant, Tonghua, China" depicts a lonely platform engulfed in miasmas of toxic-colored steam that seem barely to hold off an impenetrable darkness at the photograph's edges.

The plant and its enormous machinery, which is as much master as it is servant, dwarf two tiny workers. A few photos are portraits of workmen (all men) caught in the undertow of China's ravenous appetite for energy, their faces and clothing caked with ash and soot.

Teh – a London-based, Malaysian-born, Chinese artist – paints an unrelentingly grim portrait of the back end of China's boom. The work is timely and important: Almost 4,000 deaths were blamed on mining accidents in China last year; accidents you'll hardly hear about and rarely see.

But as relevant as the photographs are, they're also underwhelming, and fall just short of their intended epic quality. Teh's a news magazine photographer by trade. While the show's 20-inch-by-30-inch prints are weightier than a magazine spread, they can't muster the grandeur and ambition of pieces by Sze Tsung Leong (also in the Kiang stable) or Edward Burtynsky, who also work in the genre of stressed industrial landscapes.

The medium's physical limitations surely play a role here. Most of Teh's photos bear the telltale grainy texture of having been shot on so-called "fast" 35-mm film, the stalwart film stock of many old-school photojournalists who often had to shoot quickly and in the dark. Enlarged much beyond their present size, the images might have disintegrated entirely. If this is the case, I can imagine that a medium- or large-format camera would go far to bring the latent power of Teh's striking images to the fore."
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_raw"]=>
  string(2194) "Every four years, the Olympics force a major world city to transform into a massive, sanitized diorama of itself. As Beijing cranks up its international PR machines, Ian Teh's bleak, murky photographs at Kiang Gallery will no doubt inoculate some against the steady stream of shimmering corporate gloss served up from the rising giant in the East.

The 19 color photos in Teh's ''Dark Clouds'' collection peel back the glittery surface of China's economic renaissance and reveal the coal-encrusted gears that power it. "Steel Plant, Tonghua, China" depicts a lonely platform engulfed in miasmas of toxic-colored steam that seem barely to hold off an impenetrable darkness at the photograph's edges.

The plant and its enormous machinery, which is as much master as it is servant, dwarf two tiny workers. A few photos are portraits of workmen (all men) caught in the undertow of China's ravenous appetite for energy, their faces and clothing caked with ash and soot.

Teh – a London-based, Malaysian-born, Chinese artist – paints an unrelentingly grim portrait of the back end of China's boom. The work is timely and important: Almost 4,000 deaths were blamed on mining accidents in China last year; accidents you'll hardly hear about and rarely see.

But as relevant as the photographs are, they're also underwhelming, and fall just short of their intended epic quality. Teh's a news magazine photographer by trade. While the show's 20-inch-by-30-inch prints are weightier than a magazine spread, they can't muster the grandeur and ambition of pieces by Sze Tsung Leong (also in the Kiang stable) or Edward Burtynsky, who also work in the genre of stressed industrial landscapes.

The medium's physical limitations surely play a role here. Most of Teh's photos bear the telltale grainy texture of having been shot on so-called "fast" 35-mm film, the stalwart film stock of many old-school photojournalists who often had to shoot quickly and in the dark. Enlarged much beyond their present size, the images might have disintegrated entirely. If this is the case, I can imagine that a medium- or large-format camera would go far to bring the latent power of Teh's striking images to the fore."
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_creation_date"]=>
  string(25) "2018-01-20T19:39:04+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_modification_date"]=>
  string(25) "2018-01-20T19:39:04+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(3) "631"
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory_text"]=>
  string(3) "631"
  ["tracker_field_contentControlCategory"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_scene"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentNeighborhood"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelations_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelatedContent_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelatedWikiPages_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentBASEContentID"]=>
  string(8) "13027806"
  ["tracker_field_contentLegacyContentID"]=>
  string(7) "1274493"
  ["tracker_field_contentBASEAuthorID"]=>
  int(0)
  ["tracker_field_section"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["language"]=>
  string(7) "unknown"
  ["attachments"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["comment_count"]=>
  int(0)
  ["categories"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    int(581)
  }
  ["deep_categories"]=>
  array(3) {
    [0]=>
    int(242)
    [1]=>
    int(244)
    [2]=>
    int(581)
  }
  ["categories_under_28"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_28"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_1"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_1"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_177"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_177"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_209"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_209"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_163"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_163"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_171"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_171"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_153"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_153"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_242"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_242"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    int(244)
    [1]=>
    int(581)
  }
  ["categories_under_564"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_564"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_1182"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_1182"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["freetags"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["geo_located"]=>
  string(1) "n"
  ["allowed_groups"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(6) "Admins"
    [1]=>
    string(9) "Anonymous"
  }
  ["allowed_users"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relations"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relation_objects"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relation_types"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relation_count"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["title_initial"]=>
  string(1) "D"
  ["title_firstword"]=>
  string(4) "Dark"
  ["searchable"]=>
  string(1) "y"
  ["url"]=>
  string(10) "item180101"
  ["object_type"]=>
  string(11) "trackeritem"
  ["object_id"]=>
  string(6) "180101"
  ["contents"]=>
  string(2390) "    Ian Teh's photographs at Kiang Gallery   2008-07-30T04:04:00+00:00 Dark Clouds   Cinque Hicks 1306447 2008-07-30T04:04:00+00:00  Every four years, the Olympics force a major world city to transform into a massive, sanitized diorama of itself. As Beijing cranks up its international PR machines, Ian Teh's bleak, murky photographs at Kiang Gallery will no doubt inoculate some against the steady stream of shimmering corporate gloss served up from the rising giant in the East.

The 19 color photos in Teh's Dark Clouds collection peel back the glittery surface of China's economic renaissance and reveal the coal-encrusted gears that power it. "Steel Plant, Tonghua, China" depicts a lonely platform engulfed in miasmas of toxic-colored steam that seem barely to hold off an impenetrable darkness at the photograph's edges.

The plant and its enormous machinery, which is as much master as it is servant, dwarf two tiny workers. A few photos are portraits of workmen (all men) caught in the undertow of China's ravenous appetite for energy, their faces and clothing caked with ash and soot.

Teh – a London-based, Malaysian-born, Chinese artist – paints an unrelentingly grim portrait of the back end of China's boom. The work is timely and important: Almost 4,000 deaths were blamed on mining accidents in China last year; accidents you'll hardly hear about and rarely see.

But as relevant as the photographs are, they're also underwhelming, and fall just short of their intended epic quality. Teh's a news magazine photographer by trade. While the show's 20-inch-by-30-inch prints are weightier than a magazine spread, they can't muster the grandeur and ambition of pieces by Sze Tsung Leong (also in the Kiang stable) or Edward Burtynsky, who also work in the genre of stressed industrial landscapes.

The medium's physical limitations surely play a role here. Most of Teh's photos bear the telltale grainy texture of having been shot on so-called "fast" 35-mm film, the stalwart film stock of many old-school photojournalists who often had to shoot quickly and in the dark. Enlarged much beyond their present size, the images might have disintegrated entirely. If this is the case, I can imagine that a medium- or large-format camera would go far to bring the latent power of Teh's striking images to the fore.             13027806 1274493                          Dark Clouds "
  ["score"]=>
  float(0)
  ["_index"]=>
  string(21) "atlantawiki_tiki_main"
  ["objectlink"]=>
  string(36) "No value for 'contentTitle'"
  ["photos"]=>
  string(130) "Coming Soon

"
  ["desc"]=>
  string(47) "Ian Teh's photographs at Kiang Gallery"
  ["chit_category"]=>
  string(11) "88"
}

Article

Wednesday July 30, 2008 12:04 am EDT
Ian Teh's photographs at Kiang Gallery | more...
array(79) {
  ["title"]=>
  string(24) "Susan Silton's The 5 W's"
  ["modification_date"]=>
  string(25) "2018-06-16T00:40:47+00:00"
  ["creation_date"]=>
  string(25) "2017-12-29T19:21:41+00:00"
  ["contributors"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(29) "ben.eason@creativeloafing.com"
  }
  ["date"]=>
  string(25) "2008-07-23T04:04:00+00:00"
  ["tracker_status"]=>
  string(1) "o"
  ["tracker_id"]=>
  string(2) "11"
  ["view_permission"]=>
  string(13) "view_trackers"
  ["tracker_field_contentTitle"]=>
  string(24) "Susan Silton's The 5 W's"
  ["tracker_field_contentByline"]=>
  string(12) "Cinque Hicks"
  ["tracker_field_contentByline_exact"]=>
  string(12) "Cinque Hicks"
  ["tracker_field_contentBylinePerson"]=>
  string(6) "146030"
  ["tracker_field_contentBylinePerson_text"]=>
  string(7) "1306447"
  ["tracker_field_description"]=>
  string(56) "One artist's way of getting us to read between the lines"
  ["tracker_field_description_raw"]=>
  string(56) "One artist's way of getting us to read between the lines"
  ["tracker_field_contentDate"]=>
  string(25) "2008-07-23T04:04:00+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage"]=>
  string(34) "Content:_:Susan Silton's The 5 W's"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_text"]=>
  string(2133) "Susan Silton's site-specific work The 5 W's at the Atlanta Contemporary Art Center consists of one wall of horizontal black-and-white stripes, painted floor to ceiling, and edge to edge. A box with the same striped motif sits in front of the wall, and contains a waist-high stack of cards printed with similar stripes. If you can look at the cards without getting a headache, one of five words — who, what, why, where, when — emerges like a ghost from between the lines. (Hint: Tilt the card away from you.)

Gird thy loins: The 5 W's is "difficult." It takes work not to slip dismissively past its off-putting surface. "Difficult" work has become the bogeyman of contemporary art, but The 5 W's blooms with surprising speed. The questions come quickly while staring at that freaky wall, pondering the purpose of five words that form the basis of journalistic writing: Are there hidden messages? If I stare long enough will a word emerge from the stripes? Or are they just, well, stripes? I can't think of a better metaphor for how hard we should've been reading between the journalistic lines before the Iraq war, for example, and didn't. The installation is an elegant indictment of the opaque truthiness of ink on newsprint.

As a site-specific work, The 5 W's is somewhat awkward. It's set up in the Contemporary's round gallery, and there are surely better strategies for dealing with the curved wall other than essentially ignoring it. (Camille Norment's panoramic environment and Cecelia Kane's raft of disembodied gloves worked with, not against, that same round space in earlier exhibits.) But Silton manages to make her point.

A cottage industry of art critics has emerged around bashing cerebral, conceptual work, and hailing the return of craft, drawing and the human touch. I know because I've written one or two of those articles. Critics and audiences alike have a tendency to make each piece answer for the sins of every other conceptual work. Silton's installation helps put the brakes on post-postmodern hateration. It's mysterious enough to satisfy the willing, and open enough to welcome the roving eye.

   "
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_raw"]=>
  string(2198) "Susan Silton's site-specific work ''The 5 W's'' at the Atlanta Contemporary Art Center consists of one wall of horizontal black-and-white stripes, painted floor to ceiling, and edge to edge. A box with the same striped motif sits in front of the wall, and contains a waist-high stack of cards printed with similar stripes. If you can look at the cards without getting a headache, one of five words — who, what, why, where, when — emerges like a ghost from between the lines. (Hint: Tilt the card away from you.)

Gird thy loins: ''The 5 W's'' is "difficult." It takes work not to slip dismissively past its off-putting surface. "Difficult" work has become the bogeyman of contemporary art, but ''The 5 W's'' blooms with surprising speed. The questions come quickly while staring at that freaky wall, pondering the purpose of five words that form the basis of journalistic writing: Are there hidden messages? If I stare long enough will a word emerge from the stripes? Or are they just, well, stripes? I can't think of a better metaphor for how hard we should've been reading between the journalistic lines before the Iraq war, for example, and didn't. The installation is an elegant indictment of the opaque truthiness of ink on newsprint.

As a site-specific work, ''The 5 W's'' is somewhat awkward. It's set up in the Contemporary's round gallery, and there are surely better strategies for dealing with the curved wall other than essentially ignoring it. (Camille Norment's panoramic environment and Cecelia Kane's raft of disembodied gloves worked with, not against, that same round space in earlier exhibits.) But Silton manages to make her point.

A cottage industry of art critics has emerged around bashing cerebral, conceptual work, and hailing the return of craft, drawing and the human touch. I know because I've written one or two of those articles. Critics and audiences alike have a tendency to make each piece answer for the sins of every other conceptual work. Silton's installation helps put the brakes on post-postmodern hateration. It's mysterious enough to satisfy the willing, and open enough to welcome the roving eye.

''[mailto:arts@atlanta.creativeloafing.com| %%%  ]''"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_creation_date"]=>
  string(25) "2018-01-20T19:39:04+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_modification_date"]=>
  string(25) "2018-01-20T19:39:04+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(3) "631"
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory_text"]=>
  string(3) "631"
  ["tracker_field_contentControlCategory"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_scene"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentNeighborhood"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelations_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelatedContent_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelatedWikiPages_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentBASEContentID"]=>
  string(8) "13027756"
  ["tracker_field_contentLegacyContentID"]=>
  string(7) "1274390"
  ["tracker_field_contentBASEAuthorID"]=>
  int(0)
  ["tracker_field_section"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["language"]=>
  string(7) "unknown"
  ["attachments"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["comment_count"]=>
  int(0)
  ["categories"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    int(581)
  }
  ["deep_categories"]=>
  array(3) {
    [0]=>
    int(242)
    [1]=>
    int(244)
    [2]=>
    int(581)
  }
  ["categories_under_28"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_28"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_1"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_1"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_177"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_177"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_209"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_209"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_163"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_163"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_171"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_171"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_153"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_153"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_242"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_242"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    int(244)
    [1]=>
    int(581)
  }
  ["categories_under_564"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_564"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_1182"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_1182"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["freetags"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["geo_located"]=>
  string(1) "n"
  ["allowed_groups"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(6) "Admins"
    [1]=>
    string(9) "Anonymous"
  }
  ["allowed_users"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relations"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relation_objects"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relation_types"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relation_count"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["title_initial"]=>
  string(1) "S"
  ["title_firstword"]=>
  string(5) "Susan"
  ["searchable"]=>
  string(1) "y"
  ["url"]=>
  string(10) "item180100"
  ["object_type"]=>
  string(11) "trackeritem"
  ["object_id"]=>
  string(6) "180100"
  ["contents"]=>
  string(2377) "    One artist's way of getting us to read between the lines   2008-07-23T04:04:00+00:00 Susan Silton's The 5 W's   Cinque Hicks 1306447 2008-07-23T04:04:00+00:00  Susan Silton's site-specific work The 5 W's at the Atlanta Contemporary Art Center consists of one wall of horizontal black-and-white stripes, painted floor to ceiling, and edge to edge. A box with the same striped motif sits in front of the wall, and contains a waist-high stack of cards printed with similar stripes. If you can look at the cards without getting a headache, one of five words — who, what, why, where, when — emerges like a ghost from between the lines. (Hint: Tilt the card away from you.)

Gird thy loins: The 5 W's is "difficult." It takes work not to slip dismissively past its off-putting surface. "Difficult" work has become the bogeyman of contemporary art, but The 5 W's blooms with surprising speed. The questions come quickly while staring at that freaky wall, pondering the purpose of five words that form the basis of journalistic writing: Are there hidden messages? If I stare long enough will a word emerge from the stripes? Or are they just, well, stripes? I can't think of a better metaphor for how hard we should've been reading between the journalistic lines before the Iraq war, for example, and didn't. The installation is an elegant indictment of the opaque truthiness of ink on newsprint.

As a site-specific work, The 5 W's is somewhat awkward. It's set up in the Contemporary's round gallery, and there are surely better strategies for dealing with the curved wall other than essentially ignoring it. (Camille Norment's panoramic environment and Cecelia Kane's raft of disembodied gloves worked with, not against, that same round space in earlier exhibits.) But Silton manages to make her point.

A cottage industry of art critics has emerged around bashing cerebral, conceptual work, and hailing the return of craft, drawing and the human touch. I know because I've written one or two of those articles. Critics and audiences alike have a tendency to make each piece answer for the sins of every other conceptual work. Silton's installation helps put the brakes on post-postmodern hateration. It's mysterious enough to satisfy the willing, and open enough to welcome the roving eye.

                13027756 1274390                          Susan Silton's The 5 W's "
  ["score"]=>
  float(0)
  ["_index"]=>
  string(21) "atlantawiki_tiki_main"
  ["objectlink"]=>
  string(36) "No value for 'contentTitle'"
  ["photos"]=>
  string(130) "Coming Soon

"
  ["desc"]=>
  string(65) "One artist's way of getting us to read between the lines"
  ["chit_category"]=>
  string(11) "88"
}

Article

Wednesday July 23, 2008 12:04 am EDT
One artist's way of getting us to read between the lines | more...
array(79) {
  ["title"]=>
  string(17) "Drawn out at MODA"
  ["modification_date"]=>
  string(25) "2018-06-16T01:44:46+00:00"
  ["creation_date"]=>
  string(25) "2017-12-29T19:21:41+00:00"
  ["contributors"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(29) "ben.eason@creativeloafing.com"
  }
  ["date"]=>
  string(25) "2008-07-09T04:04:00+00:00"
  ["tracker_status"]=>
  string(1) "o"
  ["tracker_id"]=>
  string(2) "11"
  ["view_permission"]=>
  string(13) "view_trackers"
  ["tracker_field_contentTitle"]=>
  string(17) "Drawn out at MODA"
  ["tracker_field_contentByline"]=>
  string(12) "Cinque Hicks"
  ["tracker_field_contentByline_exact"]=>
  string(12) "Cinque Hicks"
  ["tracker_field_contentBylinePerson"]=>
  string(6) "146030"
  ["tracker_field_contentBylinePerson_text"]=>
  string(7) "1306447"
  ["tracker_field_description"]=>
  string(23) "Made in GA lacks smarts"
  ["tracker_field_description_raw"]=>
  string(23) "Made in GA lacks smarts"
  ["tracker_field_contentDate"]=>
  string(25) "2008-07-09T04:04:00+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage"]=>
  string(27) "Content:_:Drawn out at MODA"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_text"]=>
  string(2365) "That does it. I've officially run out of patience with the Museum of Design Atlanta. I stood by the zero-sum Cartoon Network show last year, and I defended this year's Eero Saarinen exhibit even though I knew immediately it was a flatliner. But Made in GA – the current exhibit that's supposed to showcase industrial design from Georgia – manages to be not only uninformative, but downright offensive.

An exhibition about the design of everyday products should overflow with "Wow, I never knew that!" moments. The meat of the exhibition (in Gallery 2) relies on maximum flash to deliver minimum content. Curator Carie Davis has isolated each Georgia-based company and provided a hodgepodge of concept sketches, product demo shots and technical renderings. Nothing's labeled or organized in any readable fashion. Clearly MODA thinks we're suckers for anything with a high-tech, cooler-than-cool vibe, even without proper context or explanation.

Take Thing Farm's design for a Luckie Food Lounge lamp: It's possible to pick out sketches for the lamp from among the clutter, but then ... is that a different lamp design below? Are those rejected designs? If so, why were they rejected? And what are all those unlabeled white plastic disks stuck to the wall? And all those metal clip-looking things? And why am I looking at any of it? It all looks very slick, but tells me precisely nothing.

Rather than heaping unlabeled drawings onto a wall, why not a study on how different colors affect product design; or how companies deal with handles and knobs (a major design challenge)? Or how different production materials affect the environment in different ways? Or, well, you get the picture.

MODA's become enamored of flashy presentation. If the museum doesn't shift its focus away from frothy product promotion, it risks becoming little more than a glorified showroom. The museum should instead get to the business of stimulating new thinking about and engagement with design.

If you insist on seeing Made in GA, do yourself a favor: Take in the big, bold quotations about design displayed on the walls in the otherwise empty Gallery 1 – they're genuinely thought-provoking and well-selected. Then leave. And don't look back.

Made in GA. Through Oct. 18. Free. Tues.-Sat., 11 a.m.-5 p.m. MODA, 285 Peachtree Center Ave. 404-979-6455. www.museumofdesign.org."
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_raw"]=>
  string(2410) "That does it. I've officially run out of patience with the Museum of Design Atlanta. I stood by the zero-sum Cartoon Network show last year, and I defended this year's Eero Saarinen exhibit even though I knew immediately it was a flatliner. But ''Made in GA'' – the current exhibit that's supposed to showcase industrial design from Georgia – manages to be not only uninformative, but downright offensive.

An exhibition about the design of everyday products should overflow with "Wow, I never knew that!" moments. The meat of the exhibition (in Gallery 2) relies on maximum flash to deliver minimum content. Curator Carie Davis has isolated each Georgia-based company and provided a hodgepodge of concept sketches, product demo shots and technical renderings. Nothing's labeled or organized in any readable fashion. Clearly MODA thinks we're suckers for anything with a high-tech, cooler-than-cool vibe, even without proper context or explanation.

Take Thing Farm's design for a Luckie Food Lounge lamp: It's possible to pick out sketches for the lamp from among the clutter, but then ... is that a different lamp design below? Are those rejected designs? If so, why were they rejected? And what are all those unlabeled white plastic disks stuck to the wall? And all those metal clip-looking things? And why am I looking at any of it? It all looks very slick, but tells me precisely nothing.

Rather than heaping unlabeled drawings onto a wall, why not a study on how different colors affect product design; or how companies deal with handles and knobs (a major design challenge)? Or how different production materials affect the environment in different ways? Or, well, you get the picture.

MODA's become enamored of flashy presentation. If the museum doesn't shift its focus away from frothy product promotion, it risks becoming little more than a glorified showroom. The museum should instead get to the business of stimulating new thinking about and engagement with design.

If you insist on seeing ''Made in GA'', do yourself a favor: Take in the big, bold quotations about design displayed on the walls in the otherwise empty Gallery 1 – they're genuinely thought-provoking and well-selected. Then leave. And don't look back.

Made in GA. ''Through Oct. 18. Free. Tues.-Sat., 11 a.m.-5 p.m. MODA, 285 Peachtree Center Ave. 404-979-6455. [http://www.museumofdesign.org/|www.museumofdesign.org].''"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_creation_date"]=>
  string(25) "2018-01-20T19:39:04+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_modification_date"]=>
  string(25) "2018-01-20T19:39:04+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(3) "631"
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory_text"]=>
  string(3) "631"
  ["tracker_field_contentControlCategory"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_scene"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentNeighborhood"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelations_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelatedContent_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelatedWikiPages_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentBASEContentID"]=>
  string(8) "13027661"
  ["tracker_field_contentLegacyContentID"]=>
  string(7) "1274197"
  ["tracker_field_contentBASEAuthorID"]=>
  int(0)
  ["tracker_field_section"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["language"]=>
  string(7) "unknown"
  ["attachments"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["comment_count"]=>
  int(0)
  ["categories"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    int(581)
  }
  ["deep_categories"]=>
  array(3) {
    [0]=>
    int(242)
    [1]=>
    int(244)
    [2]=>
    int(581)
  }
  ["categories_under_28"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_28"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_1"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_1"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_177"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_177"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_209"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_209"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_163"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_163"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_171"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_171"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_153"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_153"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_242"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_242"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    int(244)
    [1]=>
    int(581)
  }
  ["categories_under_564"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_564"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_1182"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_1182"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["freetags"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["geo_located"]=>
  string(1) "n"
  ["allowed_groups"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(6) "Admins"
    [1]=>
    string(9) "Anonymous"
  }
  ["allowed_users"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relations"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relation_objects"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relation_types"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relation_count"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["title_initial"]=>
  string(1) "D"
  ["title_firstword"]=>
  string(5) "Drawn"
  ["searchable"]=>
  string(1) "y"
  ["url"]=>
  string(10) "item180099"
  ["object_type"]=>
  string(11) "trackeritem"
  ["object_id"]=>
  string(6) "180099"
  ["contents"]=>
  string(2562) "    Made in GA lacks smarts   2008-07-09T04:04:00+00:00 Drawn out at MODA   Cinque Hicks 1306447 2008-07-09T04:04:00+00:00  That does it. I've officially run out of patience with the Museum of Design Atlanta. I stood by the zero-sum Cartoon Network show last year, and I defended this year's Eero Saarinen exhibit even though I knew immediately it was a flatliner. But Made in GA – the current exhibit that's supposed to showcase industrial design from Georgia – manages to be not only uninformative, but downright offensive.

An exhibition about the design of everyday products should overflow with "Wow, I never knew that!" moments. The meat of the exhibition (in Gallery 2) relies on maximum flash to deliver minimum content. Curator Carie Davis has isolated each Georgia-based company and provided a hodgepodge of concept sketches, product demo shots and technical renderings. Nothing's labeled or organized in any readable fashion. Clearly MODA thinks we're suckers for anything with a high-tech, cooler-than-cool vibe, even without proper context or explanation.

Take Thing Farm's design for a Luckie Food Lounge lamp: It's possible to pick out sketches for the lamp from among the clutter, but then ... is that a different lamp design below? Are those rejected designs? If so, why were they rejected? And what are all those unlabeled white plastic disks stuck to the wall? And all those metal clip-looking things? And why am I looking at any of it? It all looks very slick, but tells me precisely nothing.

Rather than heaping unlabeled drawings onto a wall, why not a study on how different colors affect product design; or how companies deal with handles and knobs (a major design challenge)? Or how different production materials affect the environment in different ways? Or, well, you get the picture.

MODA's become enamored of flashy presentation. If the museum doesn't shift its focus away from frothy product promotion, it risks becoming little more than a glorified showroom. The museum should instead get to the business of stimulating new thinking about and engagement with design.

If you insist on seeing Made in GA, do yourself a favor: Take in the big, bold quotations about design displayed on the walls in the otherwise empty Gallery 1 – they're genuinely thought-provoking and well-selected. Then leave. And don't look back.

Made in GA. Through Oct. 18. Free. Tues.-Sat., 11 a.m.-5 p.m. MODA, 285 Peachtree Center Ave. 404-979-6455. www.museumofdesign.org.             13027661 1274197                          Drawn out at MODA "
  ["score"]=>
  float(0)
  ["_index"]=>
  string(21) "atlantawiki_tiki_main"
  ["objectlink"]=>
  string(36) "No value for 'contentTitle'"
  ["photos"]=>
  string(130) "Coming Soon

"
  ["desc"]=>
  string(32) "Made in GA lacks smarts"
  ["chit_category"]=>
  string(11) "88"
}

Article

Wednesday July 9, 2008 12:04 am EDT
Made in GA lacks smarts | more...
array(79) {
  ["title"]=>
  string(26) "Joe Overstreet: Jazz hands"
  ["modification_date"]=>
  string(25) "2018-06-16T01:44:46+00:00"
  ["creation_date"]=>
  string(25) "2017-12-29T19:21:41+00:00"
  ["contributors"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(29) "ben.eason@creativeloafing.com"
  }
  ["date"]=>
  string(25) "2008-06-25T04:04:00+00:00"
  ["tracker_status"]=>
  string(1) "o"
  ["tracker_id"]=>
  string(2) "11"
  ["view_permission"]=>
  string(13) "view_trackers"
  ["tracker_field_contentTitle"]=>
  string(26) "Joe Overstreet: Jazz hands"
  ["tracker_field_contentByline"]=>
  string(12) "Cinque Hicks"
  ["tracker_field_contentByline_exact"]=>
  string(12) "Cinque Hicks"
  ["tracker_field_contentBylinePerson"]=>
  string(6) "146030"
  ["tracker_field_contentBylinePerson_text"]=>
  string(7) "1306447"
  ["tracker_field_description"]=>
  string(35) "Storyville Series at City Hall East"
  ["tracker_field_description_raw"]=>
  string(35) "Storyville Series at City Hall East"
  ["tracker_field_contentDate"]=>
  string(25) "2008-06-25T04:04:00+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage"]=>
  string(36) "Content:_:Joe Overstreet: Jazz hands"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_text"]=>
  string(2663) "Summer is Atlanta's season of jazz festivals, and with it the art world can expect a flood of mediocre, jazz-inspired paintings meant to honor that most radical of musical forms. If it were up to me, this legion of copycats would spend a day at City Hall East, studying the masterful paintings of Joe Overstreet's Storyville Series to see how it's really done.

First shown in 1988 at Kenkeleba House, an alternative gallery space on Manhattan's Lower East Side, Overstreet's large-scale oil paintings reference New Orleans' Storyville section. Storyville was established as a district for legalized prostitution and gambling at the tail end of the 19th century, and became a hotbed for the then-nascent jazz art form.

Overstreet captures the flavor of the Storyville legend with energetic figurative compositions and unsettling color choices that mirror the dissonant dominant seventh of a jazz tritone. In "Miss Emma Johnson's House, 331-333 Basin Street," a not-quite-right mauve sky activates a geometric house rendered in chalky blues and sickly grays. Overstreet refuses to resolve the color and instead leaves us with the always-unresolved tension of a Thelonious Monk solo.

Seen from a moving train, Overstreet's 18 paintings might look like the standard fare of abstract expressionism. After all, he emerged from the same crucible of postwar painting as Joan Mitchell and Franz Kline, and it shows in the full complement of drips, scrapes and palette-knife arabesques. But unlike his contemporaries, Overstreet both uses and undermines the modernist tradition that gave birth to him. Instead of the drama of a flicked paintbrush, Overstreet chooses the drama of New Orleans' potent stew of color, class and gender. Like Jacob Lawrence before him, Overstreet insists on remnants of narrative content at the expense of pure formal investigation.

The tension makes him a more complicated and interesting painter, balancing the contradictions of being a black artist in modernism's white world. It's worth noting that the tradition of resistance continues, for example, in Atlanta artists Kevin Sipp's and Cullen Washington Jr.'s complex responses to postmodernism. (Washington's Hoodlores Series is currently on view at the Rialto.)

The federal government shut down Storyville in 1917. Appropriately, the Storyville Series is City Gallery East's final show before it closes. I can think of no better tribute than Overstreet's festive second-line parade as another chapter in Atlanta's history comes to an end.

Storyville Series. Through Aug. 1. Free. Mon.-Sat., 10 a.m.-5 p.m. City Gallery East, 675 Ponce de Leon Ave. 404-817-6981. www.bcaatlanta.com."
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_raw"]=>
  string(2708) "Summer is Atlanta's season of jazz festivals, and with it the art world can expect a flood of mediocre, jazz-inspired paintings meant to honor that most radical of musical forms. If it were up to me, this legion of copycats would spend a day at City Hall East, studying the masterful paintings of Joe Overstreet's ''Storyville Series'' to see how it's really done.

First shown in 1988 at Kenkeleba House, an alternative gallery space on Manhattan's Lower East Side, Overstreet's large-scale oil paintings reference New Orleans' Storyville section. Storyville was established as a district for legalized prostitution and gambling at the tail end of the 19th century, and became a hotbed for the then-nascent jazz art form.

Overstreet captures the flavor of the Storyville legend with energetic figurative compositions and unsettling color choices that mirror the dissonant dominant seventh of a jazz tritone. In "Miss Emma Johnson's House, 331-333 Basin Street," a not-quite-right mauve sky activates a geometric house rendered in chalky blues and sickly grays. Overstreet refuses to resolve the color and instead leaves us with the always-unresolved tension of a Thelonious Monk solo.

Seen from a moving train, Overstreet's 18 paintings might look like the standard fare of abstract expressionism. After all, he emerged from the same crucible of postwar painting as Joan Mitchell and Franz Kline, and it shows in the full complement of drips, scrapes and palette-knife arabesques. But unlike his contemporaries, Overstreet both uses and undermines the modernist tradition that gave birth to him. Instead of the drama of a flicked paintbrush, Overstreet chooses the drama of New Orleans' potent stew of color, class and gender. Like Jacob Lawrence before him, Overstreet insists on remnants of narrative content at the expense of pure formal investigation.

The tension makes him a more complicated and interesting painter, balancing the contradictions of being a black artist in modernism's white world. It's worth noting that the tradition of resistance continues, for example, in Atlanta artists Kevin Sipp's and Cullen Washington Jr.'s complex responses to postmodernism. (Washington's ''Hoodlores Series'' is currently on view at the Rialto.)

The federal government shut down Storyville in 1917. Appropriately, the ''Storyville Series'' is City Gallery East's final show before it closes. I can think of no better tribute than Overstreet's festive second-line parade as another chapter in Atlanta's history comes to an end.

Storyville Series. ''Through Aug. 1. Free. Mon.-Sat., 10 a.m.-5 p.m. City Gallery East, 675 Ponce de Leon Ave. 404-817-6981. [http://www.bcaatlanta.com/|www.bcaatlanta.com].''"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_creation_date"]=>
  string(25) "2018-01-20T19:39:04+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_modification_date"]=>
  string(25) "2018-01-20T19:39:04+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(3) "631"
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory_text"]=>
  string(3) "631"
  ["tracker_field_contentControlCategory"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_scene"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentNeighborhood"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelations_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelatedContent_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelatedWikiPages_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentBASEContentID"]=>
  string(8) "13027567"
  ["tracker_field_contentLegacyContentID"]=>
  string(7) "1273994"
  ["tracker_field_contentBASEAuthorID"]=>
  int(0)
  ["tracker_field_section"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["language"]=>
  string(7) "unknown"
  ["attachments"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["comment_count"]=>
  int(0)
  ["categories"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    int(581)
  }
  ["deep_categories"]=>
  array(3) {
    [0]=>
    int(242)
    [1]=>
    int(244)
    [2]=>
    int(581)
  }
  ["categories_under_28"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_28"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_1"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_1"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_177"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_177"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_209"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_209"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_163"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_163"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_171"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_171"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_153"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_153"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_242"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_242"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    int(244)
    [1]=>
    int(581)
  }
  ["categories_under_564"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_564"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_1182"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_1182"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["freetags"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["geo_located"]=>
  string(1) "n"
  ["allowed_groups"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(6) "Admins"
    [1]=>
    string(9) "Anonymous"
  }
  ["allowed_users"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relations"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relation_objects"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relation_types"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relation_count"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["title_initial"]=>
  string(1) "J"
  ["title_firstword"]=>
  string(3) "Joe"
  ["searchable"]=>
  string(1) "y"
  ["url"]=>
  string(10) "item180098"
  ["object_type"]=>
  string(11) "trackeritem"
  ["object_id"]=>
  string(6) "180098"
  ["contents"]=>
  string(2890) "    Storyville Series at City Hall East   2008-06-25T04:04:00+00:00 Joe Overstreet: Jazz hands   Cinque Hicks 1306447 2008-06-25T04:04:00+00:00  Summer is Atlanta's season of jazz festivals, and with it the art world can expect a flood of mediocre, jazz-inspired paintings meant to honor that most radical of musical forms. If it were up to me, this legion of copycats would spend a day at City Hall East, studying the masterful paintings of Joe Overstreet's Storyville Series to see how it's really done.

First shown in 1988 at Kenkeleba House, an alternative gallery space on Manhattan's Lower East Side, Overstreet's large-scale oil paintings reference New Orleans' Storyville section. Storyville was established as a district for legalized prostitution and gambling at the tail end of the 19th century, and became a hotbed for the then-nascent jazz art form.

Overstreet captures the flavor of the Storyville legend with energetic figurative compositions and unsettling color choices that mirror the dissonant dominant seventh of a jazz tritone. In "Miss Emma Johnson's House, 331-333 Basin Street," a not-quite-right mauve sky activates a geometric house rendered in chalky blues and sickly grays. Overstreet refuses to resolve the color and instead leaves us with the always-unresolved tension of a Thelonious Monk solo.

Seen from a moving train, Overstreet's 18 paintings might look like the standard fare of abstract expressionism. After all, he emerged from the same crucible of postwar painting as Joan Mitchell and Franz Kline, and it shows in the full complement of drips, scrapes and palette-knife arabesques. But unlike his contemporaries, Overstreet both uses and undermines the modernist tradition that gave birth to him. Instead of the drama of a flicked paintbrush, Overstreet chooses the drama of New Orleans' potent stew of color, class and gender. Like Jacob Lawrence before him, Overstreet insists on remnants of narrative content at the expense of pure formal investigation.

The tension makes him a more complicated and interesting painter, balancing the contradictions of being a black artist in modernism's white world. It's worth noting that the tradition of resistance continues, for example, in Atlanta artists Kevin Sipp's and Cullen Washington Jr.'s complex responses to postmodernism. (Washington's Hoodlores Series is currently on view at the Rialto.)

The federal government shut down Storyville in 1917. Appropriately, the Storyville Series is City Gallery East's final show before it closes. I can think of no better tribute than Overstreet's festive second-line parade as another chapter in Atlanta's history comes to an end.

Storyville Series. Through Aug. 1. Free. Mon.-Sat., 10 a.m.-5 p.m. City Gallery East, 675 Ponce de Leon Ave. 404-817-6981. www.bcaatlanta.com.             13027567 1273994                          Joe Overstreet: Jazz hands "
  ["score"]=>
  float(0)
  ["_index"]=>
  string(21) "atlantawiki_tiki_main"
  ["objectlink"]=>
  string(36) "No value for 'contentTitle'"
  ["photos"]=>
  string(130) "Coming Soon

"
  ["desc"]=>
  string(44) "Storyville Series at City Hall East"
  ["chit_category"]=>
  string(11) "88"
}

Article

Wednesday June 25, 2008 12:04 am EDT
Storyville Series at City Hall East | more...
array(79) {
  ["title"]=>
  string(14) "Outside voices"
  ["modification_date"]=>
  string(25) "2018-06-16T01:44:46+00:00"
  ["creation_date"]=>
  string(25) "2017-12-29T19:21:41+00:00"
  ["contributors"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(29) "ben.eason@creativeloafing.com"
  }
  ["date"]=>
  string(25) "2008-06-18T04:04:00+00:00"
  ["tracker_status"]=>
  string(1) "o"
  ["tracker_id"]=>
  string(2) "11"
  ["view_permission"]=>
  string(13) "view_trackers"
  ["tracker_field_contentTitle"]=>
  string(14) "Outside voices"
  ["tracker_field_contentByline"]=>
  string(12) "Cinque Hicks"
  ["tracker_field_contentByline_exact"]=>
  string(12) "Cinque Hicks"
  ["tracker_field_contentBylinePerson"]=>
  string(6) "146030"
  ["tracker_field_contentBylinePerson_text"]=>
  string(7) "1306447"
  ["tracker_field_description"]=>
  string(59) "Melissa Stern and Charlotte Foust at Barbara Archer Gallery"
  ["tracker_field_description_raw"]=>
  string(59) "Melissa Stern and Charlotte Foust at Barbara Archer Gallery"
  ["tracker_field_contentDate"]=>
  string(25) "2008-06-18T04:04:00+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage"]=>
  string(24) "Content:_:Outside voices"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_text"]=>
  string(2442) "A Common Space at Inman Park's Barbara Archer Gallery is full of ugly work. Sculptor Melissa Stern and painter Charlotte Foust both deploy intentionally brutish materials with purposefully lo-fi methods. And although their bodies of work were created independent of each other, the show has the look of a close collaboration, each artist drawing from a similar vocabulary of crude, enigmatic forms and the symbolism of dysfunction.

New York-based Stern has been a staple in the ceramics world for nearly two decades. She's the more experienced of the two artists, and turns her attention here to themes of relationships in a dozen small-scale, figurative clay works.

In "Family," three simplified busts sit side by side in what might be an arrangement for a family portrait. A pair of wheels rests atop the figure on the left, and a green duck crowns the figure on the right. None of the works possesses a complete set of features, each one missing eyes, a mouth or nose. The smallest figure lacks all features entirely – a potent comment on the difficulty of connecting even to those closest to us.

The sense of absurd dislocation carries over into Foust's paintings. Like Stern, Foust denies refined craft. Her solitary animal/human chimeras are rendered in a riot of conflicting brush strokes, pencil marks and magazine clippings. She constrains her palette mostly to neutral whites, browns and a murky powder blue, with the occasional burst of hot red or orange. Given such formal constraints, her figures are surprisingly subtle and potent, and carry a psychological immediacy that would have been impossible with a more refined surface.

Jean Dubuffet coined the term "Art Brut" to refer to the "outsider" art produced by society's least enfranchised: the mentally insane, prisoners, children. Stern's and Foust's work isn't outsider art – both are art-school educated – but by borrowing many of the genre's terms, the two hold up a mirror to "insider" art's limitations, all finish and seamless surfaces. Both exemplify Dubuffet's dictum that ugly objects can also be beautiful. Instead of the deeply human impulse to create beauty, Stern and Foust pursue a more complex and neglected human urge: the redemptive impulse to find beauty in the least and the lowest.

A Common Space. Through Aug. 30. Free. Tues.-Fri., 11 a.m.-6 p.m.; Sat. 11 a.m.-5 p.m. Barbara Archer Gallery, 280 Elizabeth St. 404-523-1845. barbaraarcher.com."
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_raw"]=>
  string(2478) "''A Common Space'' at Inman Park's Barbara Archer Gallery is full of ugly work. Sculptor Melissa Stern and painter Charlotte Foust both deploy intentionally brutish materials with purposefully lo-fi methods. And although their bodies of work were created independent of each other, the show has the look of a close collaboration, each artist drawing from a similar vocabulary of crude, enigmatic forms and the symbolism of dysfunction.

New York-based Stern has been a staple in the ceramics world for nearly two decades. She's the more experienced of the two artists, and turns her attention here to themes of relationships in a dozen small-scale, figurative clay works.

In "Family," three simplified busts sit side by side in what might be an arrangement for a family portrait. A pair of wheels rests atop the figure on the left, and a green duck crowns the figure on the right. None of the works possesses a complete set of features, each one missing eyes, a mouth or nose. The smallest figure lacks all features entirely – a potent comment on the difficulty of connecting even to those closest to us.

The sense of absurd dislocation carries over into Foust's paintings. Like Stern, Foust denies refined craft. Her solitary animal/human chimeras are rendered in a riot of conflicting brush strokes, pencil marks and magazine clippings. She constrains her palette mostly to neutral whites, browns and a murky powder blue, with the occasional burst of hot red or orange. Given such formal constraints, her figures are surprisingly subtle and potent, and carry a psychological immediacy that would have been impossible with a more refined surface.

Jean Dubuffet coined the term "Art Brut" to refer to the "outsider" art produced by society's least enfranchised: the mentally insane, prisoners, children. Stern's and Foust's work isn't outsider art – both are art-school educated – but by borrowing many of the genre's terms, the two hold up a mirror to "insider" art's limitations, all finish and seamless surfaces. Both exemplify Dubuffet's dictum that ugly objects can also be beautiful. Instead of the deeply human impulse to create beauty, Stern and Foust pursue a more complex and neglected human urge: the redemptive impulse to find beauty in the least and the lowest.

A Common Space. ''Through Aug. 30. Free. Tues.-Fri., 11 a.m.-6 p.m.; Sat. 11 a.m.-5 p.m. Barbara Archer Gallery, 280 Elizabeth St. 404-523-1845. [http://barbaraarcher.com/|barbaraarcher.com].''"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_creation_date"]=>
  string(25) "2018-01-20T19:39:04+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_modification_date"]=>
  string(25) "2018-01-20T19:39:04+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(3) "631"
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory_text"]=>
  string(3) "631"
  ["tracker_field_contentControlCategory"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_scene"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentNeighborhood"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelations_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelatedContent_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelatedWikiPages_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentBASEContentID"]=>
  string(8) "13027519"
  ["tracker_field_contentLegacyContentID"]=>
  string(7) "1273868"
  ["tracker_field_contentBASEAuthorID"]=>
  int(0)
  ["tracker_field_section"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["language"]=>
  string(7) "unknown"
  ["attachments"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["comment_count"]=>
  int(0)
  ["categories"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    int(581)
  }
  ["deep_categories"]=>
  array(3) {
    [0]=>
    int(242)
    [1]=>
    int(244)
    [2]=>
    int(581)
  }
  ["categories_under_28"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_28"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_1"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_1"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_177"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_177"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_209"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_209"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_163"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_163"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_171"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_171"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_153"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_153"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_242"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_242"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    int(244)
    [1]=>
    int(581)
  }
  ["categories_under_564"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_564"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_1182"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_1182"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["freetags"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["geo_located"]=>
  string(1) "n"
  ["allowed_groups"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(6) "Admins"
    [1]=>
    string(9) "Anonymous"
  }
  ["allowed_users"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relations"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relation_objects"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relation_types"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relation_count"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["title_initial"]=>
  string(1) "O"
  ["title_firstword"]=>
  string(7) "Outside"
  ["searchable"]=>
  string(1) "y"
  ["url"]=>
  string(10) "item180097"
  ["object_type"]=>
  string(11) "trackeritem"
  ["object_id"]=>
  string(6) "180097"
  ["contents"]=>
  string(2669) "    Melissa Stern and Charlotte Foust at Barbara Archer Gallery   2008-06-18T04:04:00+00:00 Outside voices   Cinque Hicks 1306447 2008-06-18T04:04:00+00:00  A Common Space at Inman Park's Barbara Archer Gallery is full of ugly work. Sculptor Melissa Stern and painter Charlotte Foust both deploy intentionally brutish materials with purposefully lo-fi methods. And although their bodies of work were created independent of each other, the show has the look of a close collaboration, each artist drawing from a similar vocabulary of crude, enigmatic forms and the symbolism of dysfunction.

New York-based Stern has been a staple in the ceramics world for nearly two decades. She's the more experienced of the two artists, and turns her attention here to themes of relationships in a dozen small-scale, figurative clay works.

In "Family," three simplified busts sit side by side in what might be an arrangement for a family portrait. A pair of wheels rests atop the figure on the left, and a green duck crowns the figure on the right. None of the works possesses a complete set of features, each one missing eyes, a mouth or nose. The smallest figure lacks all features entirely – a potent comment on the difficulty of connecting even to those closest to us.

The sense of absurd dislocation carries over into Foust's paintings. Like Stern, Foust denies refined craft. Her solitary animal/human chimeras are rendered in a riot of conflicting brush strokes, pencil marks and magazine clippings. She constrains her palette mostly to neutral whites, browns and a murky powder blue, with the occasional burst of hot red or orange. Given such formal constraints, her figures are surprisingly subtle and potent, and carry a psychological immediacy that would have been impossible with a more refined surface.

Jean Dubuffet coined the term "Art Brut" to refer to the "outsider" art produced by society's least enfranchised: the mentally insane, prisoners, children. Stern's and Foust's work isn't outsider art – both are art-school educated – but by borrowing many of the genre's terms, the two hold up a mirror to "insider" art's limitations, all finish and seamless surfaces. Both exemplify Dubuffet's dictum that ugly objects can also be beautiful. Instead of the deeply human impulse to create beauty, Stern and Foust pursue a more complex and neglected human urge: the redemptive impulse to find beauty in the least and the lowest.

A Common Space. Through Aug. 30. Free. Tues.-Fri., 11 a.m.-6 p.m.; Sat. 11 a.m.-5 p.m. Barbara Archer Gallery, 280 Elizabeth St. 404-523-1845. barbaraarcher.com.             13027519 1273868                          Outside voices "
  ["score"]=>
  float(0)
  ["_index"]=>
  string(21) "atlantawiki_tiki_main"
  ["objectlink"]=>
  string(36) "No value for 'contentTitle'"
  ["photos"]=>
  string(130) "Coming Soon

"
  ["desc"]=>
  string(68) "Melissa Stern and Charlotte Foust at Barbara Archer Gallery"
  ["chit_category"]=>
  string(11) "88"
}

Article

Wednesday June 18, 2008 12:04 am EDT
Melissa Stern and Charlotte Foust at Barbara Archer Gallery | more...
array(79) {
  ["title"]=>
  string(15) "Young Americans"
  ["modification_date"]=>
  string(25) "2018-06-16T00:59:37+00:00"
  ["creation_date"]=>
  string(25) "2017-12-29T19:21:41+00:00"
  ["contributors"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(29) "ben.eason@creativeloafing.com"
  }
  ["date"]=>
  string(25) "2008-06-11T04:04:00+00:00"
  ["tracker_status"]=>
  string(1) "o"
  ["tracker_id"]=>
  string(2) "11"
  ["view_permission"]=>
  string(13) "view_trackers"
  ["tracker_field_contentTitle"]=>
  string(15) "Young Americans"
  ["tracker_field_contentByline"]=>
  string(12) "Cinque Hicks"
  ["tracker_field_contentByline_exact"]=>
  string(12) "Cinque Hicks"
  ["tracker_field_contentBylinePerson"]=>
  string(6) "146030"
  ["tracker_field_contentBylinePerson_text"]=>
  string(7) "1306447"
  ["tracker_field_description"]=>
  string(65) "Sheila Pree Bright's latest work explores the youth of the nation"
  ["tracker_field_description_raw"]=>
  string(65) "Sheila Pree Bright's latest work explores the youth of the nation"
  ["tracker_field_contentDate"]=>
  string(25) "2008-06-11T04:04:00+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage"]=>
  string(25) "Content:_:Young Americans"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_text"]=>
  string(2366) "When you consider how often they photograph themselves, today's young Americans are arguably the most photographed generation in human history. This makes photographer Sheila Pree Bright's task that much more difficult as she attempts to document them, and their political beliefs, in her High Museum solo debut, Young Americans. In the end, the young adults, so used to being looked at, seem to manipulate both artist and viewer as they race to engage in the self-image propaganda that their MySpace generation invented.

Between 2006 and 2008, Pree Bright crisscrossed the country asking Gen Y-ers to write statements about what their Americanness means to them. She photographed each respondent with an American flag against an all-white backdrop in her makeshift studio. Pree Bright allowed each sitter to construct his or her own pose, as well as supply any additional props or costume pieces.

Most took advantage of the modeling opportunity to create a character of one kind or another. Twenty-year-old Kristen Alexis Kucks casts herself as the middle American sweetheart, curtsying as she presents a neatly (and properly) folded flag. Twenty-four-year-old Morgan Lumpkins vaguely channels Black Panther activist Kathleen Cleaver with a loose, French-tipped fist pumped high in the air.

In allowing her subjects so much freedom, however, Pree Bright abdicates too much authority. Few of the 28 portraits reveal much real vulnerability, anger, joy or melancholy. Instead, the "Project Runway" generation came ready with self-edited poses, expressions and gestures. It's bad when a photographer has exploited his or her subjects. It turns out to be equally as bad when the subjects seem to have exploited their photographer.

The photos are formally pristine, and the abundance of empty white space immediately recalls Richard Avedon's American West portraits, one of Pree Bright's named influences. But Young Americans actually owes more to the work of commercial photographer Oliviero Toscani, whose glossy form of provocative polemics defined a generation of Benetton billboards.

Young Americans is an important project; I can think of no other major artist tackling the question of national identity in the Gen Y age cohort. Without more interpretive influence from the artist, however, the portraits lack the urgency of the questions they seek to answer."
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_raw"]=>
  string(2382) "When you consider how often they photograph themselves, today's young Americans are arguably the most photographed generation in human history. This makes photographer Sheila Pree Bright's task that much more difficult as she attempts to document them, and their political beliefs, in her High Museum solo debut, ''Young Americans''. In the end, the young adults, so used to being looked at, seem to manipulate both artist and viewer as they race to engage in the self-image propaganda that their MySpace generation invented.

Between 2006 and 2008, Pree Bright crisscrossed the country asking Gen Y-ers to write statements about what their Americanness means to them. She photographed each respondent with an American flag against an all-white backdrop in her makeshift studio. Pree Bright allowed each sitter to construct his or her own pose, as well as supply any additional props or costume pieces.

Most took advantage of the modeling opportunity to create a character of one kind or another. Twenty-year-old Kristen Alexis Kucks casts herself as the middle American sweetheart, curtsying as she presents a neatly (and properly) folded flag. Twenty-four-year-old Morgan Lumpkins vaguely channels Black Panther activist Kathleen Cleaver with a loose, French-tipped fist pumped high in the air.

In allowing her subjects so much freedom, however, Pree Bright abdicates too much authority. Few of the 28 portraits reveal much real vulnerability, anger, joy or melancholy. Instead, the "Project Runway" generation came ready with self-edited poses, expressions and gestures. It's bad when a photographer has exploited his or her subjects. It turns out to be equally as bad when the subjects seem to have exploited their photographer.

The photos are formally pristine, and the abundance of empty white space immediately recalls Richard Avedon's ''American West'' portraits, one of Pree Bright's named influences. But ''Young Americans'' actually owes more to the work of commercial photographer Oliviero Toscani, whose glossy form of provocative polemics defined a generation of Benetton billboards.

''Young Americans'' is an important project; I can think of no other major artist tackling the question of national identity in the Gen Y age cohort. Without more interpretive influence from the artist, however, the portraits lack the urgency of the questions they seek to answer."
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_creation_date"]=>
  string(25) "2018-01-20T19:39:04+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_modification_date"]=>
  string(25) "2018-01-20T19:39:04+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(3) "631"
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory_text"]=>
  string(3) "631"
  ["tracker_field_contentControlCategory"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_scene"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentNeighborhood"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelations_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelatedContent_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelatedWikiPages_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentBASEContentID"]=>
  string(8) "13027468"
  ["tracker_field_contentLegacyContentID"]=>
  string(7) "1273755"
  ["tracker_field_contentBASEAuthorID"]=>
  int(0)
  ["tracker_field_section"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["language"]=>
  string(7) "unknown"
  ["attachments"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["comment_count"]=>
  int(0)
  ["categories"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    int(581)
  }
  ["deep_categories"]=>
  array(3) {
    [0]=>
    int(242)
    [1]=>
    int(244)
    [2]=>
    int(581)
  }
  ["categories_under_28"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_28"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_1"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_1"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_177"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_177"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_209"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_209"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_163"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_163"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_171"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_171"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_153"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_153"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_242"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_242"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    int(244)
    [1]=>
    int(581)
  }
  ["categories_under_564"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_564"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_1182"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_1182"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["freetags"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["geo_located"]=>
  string(1) "n"
  ["allowed_groups"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(6) "Admins"
    [1]=>
    string(9) "Anonymous"
  }
  ["allowed_users"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relations"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relation_objects"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relation_types"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relation_count"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["title_initial"]=>
  string(1) "Y"
  ["title_firstword"]=>
  string(5) "Young"
  ["searchable"]=>
  string(1) "y"
  ["url"]=>
  string(10) "item180096"
  ["object_type"]=>
  string(11) "trackeritem"
  ["object_id"]=>
  string(6) "180096"
  ["contents"]=>
  string(2601) "    Sheila Pree Bright's latest work explores the youth of the nation   2008-06-11T04:04:00+00:00 Young Americans   Cinque Hicks 1306447 2008-06-11T04:04:00+00:00  When you consider how often they photograph themselves, today's young Americans are arguably the most photographed generation in human history. This makes photographer Sheila Pree Bright's task that much more difficult as she attempts to document them, and their political beliefs, in her High Museum solo debut, Young Americans. In the end, the young adults, so used to being looked at, seem to manipulate both artist and viewer as they race to engage in the self-image propaganda that their MySpace generation invented.

Between 2006 and 2008, Pree Bright crisscrossed the country asking Gen Y-ers to write statements about what their Americanness means to them. She photographed each respondent with an American flag against an all-white backdrop in her makeshift studio. Pree Bright allowed each sitter to construct his or her own pose, as well as supply any additional props or costume pieces.

Most took advantage of the modeling opportunity to create a character of one kind or another. Twenty-year-old Kristen Alexis Kucks casts herself as the middle American sweetheart, curtsying as she presents a neatly (and properly) folded flag. Twenty-four-year-old Morgan Lumpkins vaguely channels Black Panther activist Kathleen Cleaver with a loose, French-tipped fist pumped high in the air.

In allowing her subjects so much freedom, however, Pree Bright abdicates too much authority. Few of the 28 portraits reveal much real vulnerability, anger, joy or melancholy. Instead, the "Project Runway" generation came ready with self-edited poses, expressions and gestures. It's bad when a photographer has exploited his or her subjects. It turns out to be equally as bad when the subjects seem to have exploited their photographer.

The photos are formally pristine, and the abundance of empty white space immediately recalls Richard Avedon's American West portraits, one of Pree Bright's named influences. But Young Americans actually owes more to the work of commercial photographer Oliviero Toscani, whose glossy form of provocative polemics defined a generation of Benetton billboards.

Young Americans is an important project; I can think of no other major artist tackling the question of national identity in the Gen Y age cohort. Without more interpretive influence from the artist, however, the portraits lack the urgency of the questions they seek to answer.             13027468 1273755                          Young Americans "
  ["score"]=>
  float(0)
  ["_index"]=>
  string(21) "atlantawiki_tiki_main"
  ["objectlink"]=>
  string(36) "No value for 'contentTitle'"
  ["photos"]=>
  string(130) "Coming Soon

"
  ["desc"]=>
  string(74) "Sheila Pree Bright's latest work explores the youth of the nation"
  ["chit_category"]=>
  string(11) "88"
}

Article

Wednesday June 11, 2008 12:04 am EDT
Sheila Pree Bright's latest work explores the youth of the nation | more...
array(79) {
  ["title"]=>
  string(37) "A (new) Genre Landscape: Artsy parksy"
  ["modification_date"]=>
  string(25) "2018-06-16T00:46:25+00:00"
  ["creation_date"]=>
  string(25) "2017-12-29T19:21:41+00:00"
  ["contributors"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(29) "ben.eason@creativeloafing.com"
  }
  ["date"]=>
  string(25) "2008-06-04T04:04:00+00:00"
  ["tracker_status"]=>
  string(1) "o"
  ["tracker_id"]=>
  string(2) "11"
  ["view_permission"]=>
  string(13) "view_trackers"
  ["tracker_field_contentTitle"]=>
  string(37) "A (new) Genre Landscape: Artsy parksy"
  ["tracker_field_contentByline"]=>
  string(12) "Cinque Hicks"
  ["tracker_field_contentByline_exact"]=>
  string(12) "Cinque Hicks"
  ["tracker_field_contentBylinePerson"]=>
  string(6) "146030"
  ["tracker_field_contentBylinePerson_text"]=>
  string(7) "1306447"
  ["tracker_field_description"]=>
  string(39) "Public art finds funds again in Atlanta"
  ["tracker_field_description_raw"]=>
  string(39) "Public art finds funds again in Atlanta"
  ["tracker_field_contentDate"]=>
  string(25) "2008-06-04T04:04:00+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage"]=>
  string(47) "Content:_:A (new) Genre Landscape: Artsy parksy"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_text"]=>
  string(6977) "Local photographer and conceptual artist Michael Reese wants to make pigs fly. Literally. Beginning June 7, Reese will set himself up in Grant Park and invite visitors to write down impossible dreams, attach them to Frisbees imprinted with the image of a pig, and send them off into the park.

"When Pigs Fly: A Socially Interactive Dream Repository" is one of 12 temporary public artworks that comprise A (new) Genre Landscape, a citywide project taking place in nine public parks during this summer. Reese, who responded to an open call for entries last fall, wanted to create a work "where people can bring their hopes, dreams and impossibilities" and reimagine the impossible as possible.

A thread of hope and earnestness runs through all 12 works. But if the project offers the city a series of collective "Kumbaya" moments, it does so against a backdrop of protracted political battles over who has the right to define public space, and whose money should be funding it.

The recent history of public art in Atlanta has been a quagmire of lost funding, wild accusations, and so much finger pointing that John Travolta should be suing for royalties. A brief explosion of new public art in the run up to the 1996 Olympic Games delivered several notable pieces of public sculpture, such as "Homage to King" at Boulevard and Freedom Parkway, but largely failed to produce the ongoing public art funding that arts activists had wanted.

By the fall of 2007, simmering tensions within some sectors of the creative community threatened to erupt. The Atlanta Percent for Art Campaign has publicly threatened legal action against the city of Atlanta in an attempt to recoup some $5 million in what the group claims are lost "percent-for-art" funds from city coffers during the Franklin administration. According to the city's public art ordinance, the Office of Cultural Affairs is required to collect and administer 1.5 percent of the city's capital improvement budgets for the express purpose of creating and maintaining public art. The OCA admits on its own website that much of this money has not materialized. "It's a lot of money, and nobody knows what happened to it," says Evan Levy, an artist, co-founder of the Atlanta Percent for Art Campaign, and project director for 2005's Art in Freedom Park.

While eligible public art funds have gone largely uncollected by the city, A (new) Genre Landscape, however, benefits from the percent-for-art funding stream that the city frequently fails to tap. The project is funded through the 2005 Greenspace and Recreation Opportunity Bond, says Eddie Granderson, program manager of the city's public art program at OCA. The bond netted $553,000 for public art, $50,000 of which has been allocated to A (new) Genre Landscape. (Remaining funds will be disbursed for a mural at the MLK Natatorium, a series of so-called gateways in area parks, and a handful of smaller projects.) Granderson hopes that additional public art money will be made available from the bond's second drawdown in 2009.

If A (new) Genre Landscape has broken through a funding barrier, it likewise breaks through a perceived aesthetic barrier. Atlanta has a history of progressive public art, including major temporary works by artists such as Robert Smithson, Walter De Maria, and Lynne Yamamoto that were part of the Arts Festival of Atlanta's Site Works Program throughout the 1980s and '90s. Art in Freedom Park showcased the work of some 30 local artists throughout the summer of 2005, and Atlanta Celebrates Photography has been commissioning new, temporary public work since 2005, including a new piece by Jacqueline Tarry and Bradley McCallum to be mounted on a water tower in the Old Fourth Ward in October.

Perception, however, lags several years behind reality. Many artists, including some who have work in A (new) Genre Landscape, fear that the public too often equates public art with bronze statues. They point to New York and Seattle as cities that have broken down that perception with organizations such as New York's Public Art Fund. The fund regularly supports temporary works in a variety of media, including sound, video, and disposable materials.

Each work in A (new) Genre Landscape is intended to interact with the park's community. "I don't want projects landing in from outer space," says Stuart Keeler, curator and project organizer. "I made that very, very clear." Outside of that single caveat, the artists were given wide range in defining what "interact" means. Georgia State University sculpture professor Ruth Stanford, for example, will install Victorian cast-iron plaques on trees throughout Grant Park and create a map based on their locations to teach visitors about the site's history and topography. At Morningside's Sunken Garden Park, Joseph Peragine, Pam Longobardi, and Craig Dongoski will work together with citizens and the city's Office of Sustainability to amass thousands of cast-off water bottles in a sculptural form. The ad hoc trio hopes to spark a conversation about water use and drought.

The choice of Keeler as curator was designed to sidestep the competing agendas among the city, county, arts activists, business-backed groups, and various artists' cliques. Although Keeler has worked more than 17 years in public art, he remains a political outsider with less than a year of experience in Atlanta. Keeler was chosen to be, in Granderson's words, "as neutral as possible." Artist Avantika Bawa was grateful for the opportunity to work with a minimum of political umbrage. "Not really knowing the quirks and the different sensibilities within the art community allowed Keeler to choose artists and assign parks without any bias," says Bawa, whose brightly colored "dysfunctional blips" will be placed throughout East Lake Park.

Keeler's outsider status may have paid off. A (new) Genre Landscape has catalyzed a tenuous alignment among a wide range of public art stakeholders. Levy supports Keeler's efforts and hopes for "more opportunities like this in the future." Louise Shaw, chair of Atlanta Public Arts Legacy Fund calls the project "a bright spot" in the city's public art history.

Meanwhile, organizers are betting on Michael Reese's impossible dream Frisbees and the other 11 works to demonstrate the potential of socially based public art to the city as a whole. They hope for a domino effect that will bolster the city's public art infrastructure. And it may happen. You know, when pigs fly.

Participating artists and parks: Adair Park II, Danielle Roney; Brownwood Park, Tristan Al-Haddad; Coan Park, Matt Haffner; East Lake Park, Avantika Bawa and Nat Slaughter; Grant Park, Last Stand Collaborative (Martha Whittington, Raymondo Vaughn, Julie Newton, Coby Cranman), Michael Reese and Ruth Stanford; Lake Claire Park, Angus Galloway; Mozley Park, Sheila Pree Bright; Perkerson Park, Steve Jarvis and Susan Krause; Sunken Garden Park, Joe Peragine, Pam Longobardi and Craig Dongoski"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_raw"]=>
  string(7019) "Local photographer and conceptual artist Michael Reese wants to make pigs fly. Literally. Beginning June 7, Reese will set himself up in Grant Park and invite visitors to write down impossible dreams, attach them to Frisbees imprinted with the image of a pig, and send them off into the park.

"When Pigs Fly: A Socially Interactive Dream Repository" is one of 12 temporary public artworks that comprise ''A (new) Genre Landscape'', a citywide project taking place in nine public parks during this summer. Reese, who responded to an open call for entries last fall, wanted to create a work "where people can bring their hopes, dreams and impossibilities" and reimagine the impossible as possible.

A thread of hope and earnestness runs through all 12 works. But if the project offers the city a series of collective "Kumbaya" moments, it does so against a backdrop of protracted political battles over who has the right to define public space, and whose money should be funding it.

The recent history of public art in Atlanta has been a quagmire of lost funding, wild accusations, and so much finger pointing that John Travolta should be suing for royalties. A brief explosion of new public art in the run up to the 1996 Olympic Games delivered several notable pieces of public sculpture, such as "Homage to King" at Boulevard and Freedom Parkway, but largely failed to produce the ongoing public art funding that arts activists had wanted.

By the fall of 2007, simmering tensions within some sectors of the creative community threatened to erupt. The Atlanta Percent for Art Campaign has publicly threatened legal action against the city of Atlanta in an attempt to recoup some $5 million in what the group claims are lost "percent-for-art" funds from city coffers during the Franklin administration. According to the city's public art ordinance, the Office of Cultural Affairs is required to collect and administer 1.5 percent of the city's capital improvement budgets for the express purpose of creating and maintaining public art. The OCA admits on its own website that much of this money has not materialized. "It's a lot of money, and nobody knows what happened to it," says Evan Levy, an artist, co-founder of the Atlanta Percent for Art Campaign, and project director for 2005's ''Art in Freedom Park''.

While eligible public art funds have gone largely uncollected by the city, ''A (new) Genre Landscape'', however, benefits from the percent-for-art funding stream that the city frequently fails to tap. The project is funded through the 2005 Greenspace and Recreation Opportunity Bond, says Eddie Granderson, program manager of the city's public art program at OCA. The bond netted $553,000 for public art, $50,000 of which has been allocated to ''A (new) Genre Landscape''. (Remaining funds will be disbursed for a mural at the MLK Natatorium, a series of so-called gateways in area parks, and a handful of smaller projects.) Granderson hopes that additional public art money will be made available from the bond's second drawdown in 2009.

If ''A (new) Genre Landscape'' has broken through a funding barrier, it likewise breaks through a perceived aesthetic barrier. Atlanta has a history of progressive public art, including major temporary works by artists such as Robert Smithson, Walter De Maria, and Lynne Yamamoto that were part of the Arts Festival of Atlanta's Site Works Program throughout the 1980s and '90s. ''Art in Freedom Park'' showcased the work of some 30 local artists throughout the summer of 2005, and Atlanta Celebrates Photography has been commissioning new, temporary public work since 2005, including a new piece by Jacqueline Tarry and Bradley McCallum to be mounted on a water tower in the Old Fourth Ward in October.

Perception, however, lags several years behind reality. Many artists, including some who have work in ''A (new) Genre Landscape'', fear that the public too often equates public art with bronze statues. They point to New York and Seattle as cities that have broken down that perception with organizations such as New York's Public Art Fund. The fund regularly supports temporary works in a variety of media, including sound, video, and disposable materials.

Each work in ''A (new) Genre Landscape'' is intended to interact with the park's community. "I don't want projects landing in from outer space," says Stuart Keeler, curator and project organizer. "I made that very, very clear." Outside of that single caveat, the artists were given wide range in defining what "interact" means. Georgia State University sculpture professor Ruth Stanford, for example, will install Victorian cast-iron plaques on trees throughout Grant Park and create a map based on their locations to teach visitors about the site's history and topography. At Morningside's Sunken Garden Park, Joseph Peragine, Pam Longobardi, and Craig Dongoski will work together with citizens and the city's Office of Sustainability to amass thousands of cast-off water bottles in a sculptural form. The ad hoc trio hopes to spark a conversation about water use and drought.

The choice of Keeler as curator was designed to sidestep the competing agendas among the city, county, arts activists, business-backed groups, and various artists' cliques. Although Keeler has worked more than 17 years in public art, he remains a political outsider with less than a year of experience in Atlanta. Keeler was chosen to be, in Granderson's words, "as neutral as possible." Artist Avantika Bawa was grateful for the opportunity to work with a minimum of political umbrage. "Not really knowing the quirks and the different sensibilities within the art community allowed [Keeler] to choose artists and assign parks without any bias," says Bawa, whose brightly colored "dysfunctional blips" will be placed throughout East Lake Park.

Keeler's outsider status may have paid off. ''A (new) Genre Landscape'' has catalyzed a tenuous alignment among a wide range of public art stakeholders. Levy supports Keeler's efforts and hopes for "more opportunities like this in the future." Louise Shaw, chair of Atlanta Public Arts Legacy Fund calls the project "a bright spot" in the city's public art history.

Meanwhile, organizers are betting on Michael Reese's impossible dream Frisbees and the other 11 works to demonstrate the potential of socially based public art to the city as a whole. They hope for a domino effect that will bolster the city's public art infrastructure. And it may happen. You know, when pigs fly.

''Participating artists and parks: Adair Park II, Danielle Roney; Brownwood Park, Tristan Al-Haddad; Coan Park, Matt Haffner; East Lake Park, Avantika Bawa and Nat Slaughter; Grant Park, Last Stand Collaborative (Martha Whittington, Raymondo Vaughn, Julie Newton, Coby Cranman), Michael Reese and Ruth Stanford; Lake Claire Park, Angus Galloway; Mozley Park, Sheila Pree Bright; Perkerson Park, Steve Jarvis and Susan Krause; Sunken Garden Park, Joe Peragine, Pam Longobardi and Craig Dongoski''"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_creation_date"]=>
  string(25) "2018-01-20T19:39:04+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_modification_date"]=>
  string(25) "2018-01-20T19:39:04+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(3) "631"
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory_text"]=>
  string(3) "631"
  ["tracker_field_contentControlCategory"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_scene"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentNeighborhood"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelations_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelatedContent_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelatedWikiPages_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentBASEContentID"]=>
  string(8) "13027420"
  ["tracker_field_contentLegacyContentID"]=>
  string(7) "1273653"
  ["tracker_field_contentBASEAuthorID"]=>
  int(0)
  ["tracker_field_section"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["language"]=>
  string(7) "unknown"
  ["attachments"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["comment_count"]=>
  int(0)
  ["categories"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    int(581)
  }
  ["deep_categories"]=>
  array(3) {
    [0]=>
    int(242)
    [1]=>
    int(244)
    [2]=>
    int(581)
  }
  ["categories_under_28"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_28"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_1"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_1"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_177"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_177"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_209"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_209"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_163"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_163"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_171"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_171"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_153"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_153"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_242"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_242"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    int(244)
    [1]=>
    int(581)
  }
  ["categories_under_564"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_564"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_1182"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_1182"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["freetags"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["geo_located"]=>
  string(1) "n"
  ["allowed_groups"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(6) "Admins"
    [1]=>
    string(9) "Anonymous"
  }
  ["allowed_users"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relations"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relation_objects"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relation_types"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relation_count"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["title_initial"]=>
  string(1) "A"
  ["title_firstword"]=>
  string(1) "A"
  ["searchable"]=>
  string(1) "y"
  ["url"]=>
  string(10) "item180095"
  ["object_type"]=>
  string(11) "trackeritem"
  ["object_id"]=>
  string(6) "180095"
  ["contents"]=>
  string(7230) "    Public art finds funds again in Atlanta   2008-06-04T04:04:00+00:00 A (new) Genre Landscape: Artsy parksy   Cinque Hicks 1306447 2008-06-04T04:04:00+00:00  Local photographer and conceptual artist Michael Reese wants to make pigs fly. Literally. Beginning June 7, Reese will set himself up in Grant Park and invite visitors to write down impossible dreams, attach them to Frisbees imprinted with the image of a pig, and send them off into the park.

"When Pigs Fly: A Socially Interactive Dream Repository" is one of 12 temporary public artworks that comprise A (new) Genre Landscape, a citywide project taking place in nine public parks during this summer. Reese, who responded to an open call for entries last fall, wanted to create a work "where people can bring their hopes, dreams and impossibilities" and reimagine the impossible as possible.

A thread of hope and earnestness runs through all 12 works. But if the project offers the city a series of collective "Kumbaya" moments, it does so against a backdrop of protracted political battles over who has the right to define public space, and whose money should be funding it.

The recent history of public art in Atlanta has been a quagmire of lost funding, wild accusations, and so much finger pointing that John Travolta should be suing for royalties. A brief explosion of new public art in the run up to the 1996 Olympic Games delivered several notable pieces of public sculpture, such as "Homage to King" at Boulevard and Freedom Parkway, but largely failed to produce the ongoing public art funding that arts activists had wanted.

By the fall of 2007, simmering tensions within some sectors of the creative community threatened to erupt. The Atlanta Percent for Art Campaign has publicly threatened legal action against the city of Atlanta in an attempt to recoup some $5 million in what the group claims are lost "percent-for-art" funds from city coffers during the Franklin administration. According to the city's public art ordinance, the Office of Cultural Affairs is required to collect and administer 1.5 percent of the city's capital improvement budgets for the express purpose of creating and maintaining public art. The OCA admits on its own website that much of this money has not materialized. "It's a lot of money, and nobody knows what happened to it," says Evan Levy, an artist, co-founder of the Atlanta Percent for Art Campaign, and project director for 2005's Art in Freedom Park.

While eligible public art funds have gone largely uncollected by the city, A (new) Genre Landscape, however, benefits from the percent-for-art funding stream that the city frequently fails to tap. The project is funded through the 2005 Greenspace and Recreation Opportunity Bond, says Eddie Granderson, program manager of the city's public art program at OCA. The bond netted $553,000 for public art, $50,000 of which has been allocated to A (new) Genre Landscape. (Remaining funds will be disbursed for a mural at the MLK Natatorium, a series of so-called gateways in area parks, and a handful of smaller projects.) Granderson hopes that additional public art money will be made available from the bond's second drawdown in 2009.

If A (new) Genre Landscape has broken through a funding barrier, it likewise breaks through a perceived aesthetic barrier. Atlanta has a history of progressive public art, including major temporary works by artists such as Robert Smithson, Walter De Maria, and Lynne Yamamoto that were part of the Arts Festival of Atlanta's Site Works Program throughout the 1980s and '90s. Art in Freedom Park showcased the work of some 30 local artists throughout the summer of 2005, and Atlanta Celebrates Photography has been commissioning new, temporary public work since 2005, including a new piece by Jacqueline Tarry and Bradley McCallum to be mounted on a water tower in the Old Fourth Ward in October.

Perception, however, lags several years behind reality. Many artists, including some who have work in A (new) Genre Landscape, fear that the public too often equates public art with bronze statues. They point to New York and Seattle as cities that have broken down that perception with organizations such as New York's Public Art Fund. The fund regularly supports temporary works in a variety of media, including sound, video, and disposable materials.

Each work in A (new) Genre Landscape is intended to interact with the park's community. "I don't want projects landing in from outer space," says Stuart Keeler, curator and project organizer. "I made that very, very clear." Outside of that single caveat, the artists were given wide range in defining what "interact" means. Georgia State University sculpture professor Ruth Stanford, for example, will install Victorian cast-iron plaques on trees throughout Grant Park and create a map based on their locations to teach visitors about the site's history and topography. At Morningside's Sunken Garden Park, Joseph Peragine, Pam Longobardi, and Craig Dongoski will work together with citizens and the city's Office of Sustainability to amass thousands of cast-off water bottles in a sculptural form. The ad hoc trio hopes to spark a conversation about water use and drought.

The choice of Keeler as curator was designed to sidestep the competing agendas among the city, county, arts activists, business-backed groups, and various artists' cliques. Although Keeler has worked more than 17 years in public art, he remains a political outsider with less than a year of experience in Atlanta. Keeler was chosen to be, in Granderson's words, "as neutral as possible." Artist Avantika Bawa was grateful for the opportunity to work with a minimum of political umbrage. "Not really knowing the quirks and the different sensibilities within the art community allowed Keeler to choose artists and assign parks without any bias," says Bawa, whose brightly colored "dysfunctional blips" will be placed throughout East Lake Park.

Keeler's outsider status may have paid off. A (new) Genre Landscape has catalyzed a tenuous alignment among a wide range of public art stakeholders. Levy supports Keeler's efforts and hopes for "more opportunities like this in the future." Louise Shaw, chair of Atlanta Public Arts Legacy Fund calls the project "a bright spot" in the city's public art history.

Meanwhile, organizers are betting on Michael Reese's impossible dream Frisbees and the other 11 works to demonstrate the potential of socially based public art to the city as a whole. They hope for a domino effect that will bolster the city's public art infrastructure. And it may happen. You know, when pigs fly.

Participating artists and parks: Adair Park II, Danielle Roney; Brownwood Park, Tristan Al-Haddad; Coan Park, Matt Haffner; East Lake Park, Avantika Bawa and Nat Slaughter; Grant Park, Last Stand Collaborative (Martha Whittington, Raymondo Vaughn, Julie Newton, Coby Cranman), Michael Reese and Ruth Stanford; Lake Claire Park, Angus Galloway; Mozley Park, Sheila Pree Bright; Perkerson Park, Steve Jarvis and Susan Krause; Sunken Garden Park, Joe Peragine, Pam Longobardi and Craig Dongoski             13027420 1273653                          A (new) Genre Landscape: Artsy parksy "
  ["score"]=>
  float(0)
  ["_index"]=>
  string(21) "atlantawiki_tiki_main"
  ["objectlink"]=>
  string(36) "No value for 'contentTitle'"
  ["photos"]=>
  string(130) "Coming Soon

"
  ["desc"]=>
  string(48) "Public art finds funds again in Atlanta"
  ["chit_category"]=>
  string(11) "88"
}

Article

Wednesday June 4, 2008 12:04 am EDT
Public art finds funds again in Atlanta | more...
array(79) {
  ["title"]=>
  string(14) "Eye on history"
  ["modification_date"]=>
  string(25) "2018-06-16T00:16:11+00:00"
  ["creation_date"]=>
  string(25) "2017-12-29T19:21:41+00:00"
  ["contributors"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(29) "ben.eason@creativeloafing.com"
  }
  ["date"]=>
  string(25) "2008-05-28T04:04:00+00:00"
  ["tracker_status"]=>
  string(1) "o"
  ["tracker_id"]=>
  string(2) "11"
  ["view_permission"]=>
  string(13) "view_trackers"
  ["tracker_field_contentTitle"]=>
  string(14) "Eye on history"
  ["tracker_field_contentByline"]=>
  string(17) "David Lee Simmons"
  ["tracker_field_contentByline_exact"]=>
  string(17) "David Lee Simmons"
  ["tracker_field_contentBylinePerson"]=>
  string(6) "144655"
  ["tracker_field_contentBylinePerson_text"]=>
  string(7) "1224144"
  ["tracker_field_description"]=>
  string(53) "Civil Rights images capture the moments of a movement"
  ["tracker_field_description_raw"]=>
  string(53) "Civil Rights images capture the moments of a movement"
  ["tracker_field_contentDate"]=>
  string(25) "2008-05-28T04:04:00+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage"]=>
  string(24) "Content:_:Eye on history"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_text"]=>
  string(4917) "At one moment, he appears to be ducking for cover, at once the center of action and yet easily lost in the flurry of activity at a press conference. Info packs are being distributed to a hungry press, and he's just hoping not to get bonked on the head.

In another photograph, he's seated in a high-back wooden chair, waiting for something unknown. Clearly someone has said something a bit startling, and the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr., usually the picture of calm, seems surprised by what he's heard.

The images come from Bruce Davidson's Time of Change photography series, on display at both Jackson Fine Art and the High Museum in its massive exhibit, Road to Freedom: Photographs of the Civil Rights Movement 1956-68. The exhibits showcase varied perspectives documenting the historic era in which King played such a pivotal role, and the blurring of lines between photojournalism and art.

Davidson was a member of the Magnum Photos collective at the time, and working on a Guggenheim fellowship. Time of Change earned him a first-ever photography grant from the National Endowment for the Arts. Many of the images feel staged, their compositions are so perfect and full of impact.

"I do not come to my subjects with a hidden agenda," Davidson says in an e-mail interview. "I try to be patient and observe that which is in front of me. Pictures of King were done without his knowledge. I didn't attempt to know him, or become of his cadre of photographers, reporters and others. I remained mostly invisible in these epic historical times."

While Jackson Fine Art offers snippets from two of Davidson's landmark series – Time of Change and East 100th Street – the High's Road to Freedom presents more than 200 works from some of the era's most notable photographers, including Steve Schapiro, Morton Broffman, Bob Adelman and Danny Lyon covering everything from Rosa Parks to King's assassination. Their images convey the movement's triumphs and tragedies in several pivotal moments such as the hosing of demonstrators in Birmingham, Ala., and the integration of public schools in Little Rock, Ark.

It's all part of an ongoing commemoration of the 40th anniversary of King's death and to underscore the High's claim as having the nation's largest museum collection of Civil Rights Movement photography.

High Museum photography curator Julian Cox loves how the collection shows both journalistic and artistic responses to the era: "I'm fascinated by the history, but I'm also interested in the photography," Cox says. "They both document the way the world looks. This collection melds work made by people who were defined then as photojournalists with works made by individuals who conversely were described as artists. These images can be installed side by side to show the plasticity of photography, and can comment on the world in different ways."

Not all of the photographs come from famous names. One image taken by an unknown press photographer shows a black woman and two black men protesting outside an Atlanta theater. A swarm of Ku Klux Klansmen and a police officer look on and the woman cracks a faint smile as she holds up a poster with the words, "ATLANTA'S IMAGE IS A FRAUD." (The letters, Cox notes, were accentuated for effect by an Associated Press staffer.) In another anonymous photograph, a cattle prod is set diagonally against a brick wall, the owner's hand barely in the picture – emphasizing the simplicity of the suggested violence to come.

The works underscore Atlanta's impact on the Civil Rights Movement – from the photos of local leaders such as King and John Lewis to Ralph David Abernathy and Andrew Young – and make the High a fitting home for such compelling work.

Many of the images are violent, others somber, still others express defiance from both sides of the struggle. "You see violence in these images, but also a very uplifting feeling," Cox says.

Cox emphasizes that Road to Freedom focuses on the struggle's nonviolent figures, hence the absence of more volatile personalities such as Malcolm X. (Stokely Carmichael is seen in a shot before his famous break with King.)

The media often get credit for showing the world the depth of the struggle for equality, whether  in Davidson's photographs of unrelenting poverty in the rural South or in those taken during the countless demonstrations that erupted in brutality. At the Jackson exhibit, a duet of images shows  a fireman's water hose falling inches short of a couple during the Birmingham protest. In  the next shot, the spray inundates the woman in water.

"I think photography can be powerful and help facilitate social change," Davidson notes. "It is not a panacea, but it does provide us with observation and information and helps us feel and understand another person's life. I don't see my photographs as photojournalism; they are humanistic and they are carried in a personal way I see.""
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_raw"]=>
  string(4947) "At one moment, he appears to be ducking for cover, at once the center of action and yet easily lost in the flurry of activity at a press conference. Info packs are being distributed to a hungry press, and he's just hoping not to get bonked on the head.

In another photograph, he's seated in a high-back wooden chair, waiting for something unknown. Clearly someone has said something a bit startling, and the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr., usually the picture of calm, seems surprised by what he's heard.

The images come from Bruce Davidson's ''Time of Change'' photography series, on display at both Jackson Fine Art and the High Museum in its massive exhibit, ''Road to Freedom: Photographs of the Civil Rights Movement 1956-68.'' The exhibits showcase varied perspectives documenting the historic era in which King played such a pivotal role, and the blurring of lines between photojournalism and art.

Davidson was a member of the Magnum Photos collective at the time, and working on a Guggenheim fellowship. ''Time of Change'' earned him a first-ever photography grant from the National Endowment for the Arts. Many of the images feel staged, their compositions are so perfect and full of impact.

"I do not come to my subjects with a hidden agenda," Davidson says in an e-mail interview. "I try to be patient and observe that which is in front of me. Pictures of [King] were done without his knowledge. I didn't attempt to know him, or become of his cadre of photographers, reporters and others. I remained mostly invisible in these epic historical times."

While Jackson Fine Art offers snippets from two of Davidson's landmark series – ''Time of Change'' and ''East 100th Street'' – the High's ''Road to Freedom'' presents more than 200 works from some of the era's most notable photographers, including Steve Schapiro, Morton Broffman, Bob Adelman and Danny Lyon covering everything from Rosa Parks to King's assassination. Their images convey the movement's triumphs and tragedies in several pivotal moments such as the hosing of demonstrators in Birmingham, Ala., and the integration of public schools in Little Rock, Ark.

It's all part of an ongoing commemoration of the 40th anniversary of King's death and to underscore the High's claim as having the nation's largest museum collection of Civil Rights Movement photography.

High Museum photography curator Julian Cox loves how the collection shows both journalistic and artistic responses to the era: "I'm fascinated by the history, but I'm also interested in the photography," Cox says. "They both document the way the world looks. This collection melds work made by people who were defined then as photojournalists with works made by individuals who conversely were described as artists. These images can be installed side by side to show the plasticity of photography, and can comment on the world in different ways."

Not all of the photographs come from famous names. One image taken by an unknown press photographer shows a black woman and two black men protesting outside an Atlanta theater. A swarm of Ku Klux Klansmen and a police officer look on and the woman cracks a faint smile as she holds up a poster with the words, "ATLANTA'S IMAGE IS A FRAUD." (The letters, Cox notes, were accentuated for effect by an Associated Press staffer.) In another anonymous photograph, a cattle prod is set diagonally against a brick wall, the owner's hand barely in the picture – emphasizing the simplicity of the suggested violence to come.

The works underscore Atlanta's impact on the Civil Rights Movement – from the photos of local leaders such as King and John Lewis to Ralph David Abernathy and Andrew Young – and make the High a fitting home for such compelling work.

Many of the images are violent, others somber, still others express defiance from both sides of the struggle. "You see violence in these images, but also a very uplifting feeling," Cox says.

Cox emphasizes that ''Road to Freedom'' focuses on the struggle's nonviolent figures, hence the absence of more volatile personalities such as Malcolm X. (Stokely Carmichael is seen in a shot before his famous break with King.)

The media often get credit for showing the world the depth of the struggle for equality, whether  in Davidson's photographs of unrelenting poverty in the rural South or in those taken during the countless demonstrations that erupted in brutality. At the Jackson exhibit, a duet of images shows  a fireman's water hose falling inches short of a couple during the Birmingham protest. In  the next shot, the spray inundates the woman in water.

"I think photography can be powerful and help facilitate social change," Davidson notes. "It is not a panacea, but it does provide us with observation and information and helps us feel and understand another person's life. I don't see my photographs as photojournalism; they are humanistic and they are carried in a personal way I see.""
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_creation_date"]=>
  string(25) "2018-01-20T19:39:04+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_modification_date"]=>
  string(25) "2018-01-20T19:39:04+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(3) "631"
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory_text"]=>
  string(3) "631"
  ["tracker_field_contentControlCategory"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_scene"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentNeighborhood"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelations_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelatedContent_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelatedWikiPages_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentBASEContentID"]=>
  string(8) "13027382"
  ["tracker_field_contentLegacyContentID"]=>
  string(7) "1273571"
  ["tracker_field_contentBASEAuthorID"]=>
  int(0)
  ["tracker_field_section"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["language"]=>
  string(7) "unknown"
  ["attachments"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["comment_count"]=>
  int(0)
  ["categories"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    int(581)
  }
  ["deep_categories"]=>
  array(3) {
    [0]=>
    int(242)
    [1]=>
    int(244)
    [2]=>
    int(581)
  }
  ["categories_under_28"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_28"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_1"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_1"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_177"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_177"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_209"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_209"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_163"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_163"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_171"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_171"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_153"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_153"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_242"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_242"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    int(244)
    [1]=>
    int(581)
  }
  ["categories_under_564"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_564"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_1182"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_1182"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["freetags"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["geo_located"]=>
  string(1) "n"
  ["allowed_groups"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(6) "Admins"
    [1]=>
    string(9) "Anonymous"
  }
  ["allowed_users"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relations"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relation_objects"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relation_types"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relation_count"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["title_initial"]=>
  string(1) "E"
  ["title_firstword"]=>
  string(3) "Eye"
  ["searchable"]=>
  string(1) "y"
  ["url"]=>
  string(10) "item180093"
  ["object_type"]=>
  string(11) "trackeritem"
  ["object_id"]=>
  string(6) "180093"
  ["contents"]=>
  string(5143) "    Civil Rights images capture the moments of a movement   2008-05-28T04:04:00+00:00 Eye on history   David Lee Simmons 1224144 2008-05-28T04:04:00+00:00  At one moment, he appears to be ducking for cover, at once the center of action and yet easily lost in the flurry of activity at a press conference. Info packs are being distributed to a hungry press, and he's just hoping not to get bonked on the head.

In another photograph, he's seated in a high-back wooden chair, waiting for something unknown. Clearly someone has said something a bit startling, and the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr., usually the picture of calm, seems surprised by what he's heard.

The images come from Bruce Davidson's Time of Change photography series, on display at both Jackson Fine Art and the High Museum in its massive exhibit, Road to Freedom: Photographs of the Civil Rights Movement 1956-68. The exhibits showcase varied perspectives documenting the historic era in which King played such a pivotal role, and the blurring of lines between photojournalism and art.

Davidson was a member of the Magnum Photos collective at the time, and working on a Guggenheim fellowship. Time of Change earned him a first-ever photography grant from the National Endowment for the Arts. Many of the images feel staged, their compositions are so perfect and full of impact.

"I do not come to my subjects with a hidden agenda," Davidson says in an e-mail interview. "I try to be patient and observe that which is in front of me. Pictures of King were done without his knowledge. I didn't attempt to know him, or become of his cadre of photographers, reporters and others. I remained mostly invisible in these epic historical times."

While Jackson Fine Art offers snippets from two of Davidson's landmark series – Time of Change and East 100th Street – the High's Road to Freedom presents more than 200 works from some of the era's most notable photographers, including Steve Schapiro, Morton Broffman, Bob Adelman and Danny Lyon covering everything from Rosa Parks to King's assassination. Their images convey the movement's triumphs and tragedies in several pivotal moments such as the hosing of demonstrators in Birmingham, Ala., and the integration of public schools in Little Rock, Ark.

It's all part of an ongoing commemoration of the 40th anniversary of King's death and to underscore the High's claim as having the nation's largest museum collection of Civil Rights Movement photography.

High Museum photography curator Julian Cox loves how the collection shows both journalistic and artistic responses to the era: "I'm fascinated by the history, but I'm also interested in the photography," Cox says. "They both document the way the world looks. This collection melds work made by people who were defined then as photojournalists with works made by individuals who conversely were described as artists. These images can be installed side by side to show the plasticity of photography, and can comment on the world in different ways."

Not all of the photographs come from famous names. One image taken by an unknown press photographer shows a black woman and two black men protesting outside an Atlanta theater. A swarm of Ku Klux Klansmen and a police officer look on and the woman cracks a faint smile as she holds up a poster with the words, "ATLANTA'S IMAGE IS A FRAUD." (The letters, Cox notes, were accentuated for effect by an Associated Press staffer.) In another anonymous photograph, a cattle prod is set diagonally against a brick wall, the owner's hand barely in the picture – emphasizing the simplicity of the suggested violence to come.

The works underscore Atlanta's impact on the Civil Rights Movement – from the photos of local leaders such as King and John Lewis to Ralph David Abernathy and Andrew Young – and make the High a fitting home for such compelling work.

Many of the images are violent, others somber, still others express defiance from both sides of the struggle. "You see violence in these images, but also a very uplifting feeling," Cox says.

Cox emphasizes that Road to Freedom focuses on the struggle's nonviolent figures, hence the absence of more volatile personalities such as Malcolm X. (Stokely Carmichael is seen in a shot before his famous break with King.)

The media often get credit for showing the world the depth of the struggle for equality, whether  in Davidson's photographs of unrelenting poverty in the rural South or in those taken during the countless demonstrations that erupted in brutality. At the Jackson exhibit, a duet of images shows  a fireman's water hose falling inches short of a couple during the Birmingham protest. In  the next shot, the spray inundates the woman in water.

"I think photography can be powerful and help facilitate social change," Davidson notes. "It is not a panacea, but it does provide us with observation and information and helps us feel and understand another person's life. I don't see my photographs as photojournalism; they are humanistic and they are carried in a personal way I see."             13027382 1273571                          Eye on history "
  ["score"]=>
  float(0)
  ["_index"]=>
  string(21) "atlantawiki_tiki_main"
  ["objectlink"]=>
  string(36) "No value for 'contentTitle'"
  ["photos"]=>
  string(130) "Coming Soon

"
  ["desc"]=>
  string(62) "Civil Rights images capture the moments of a movement"
  ["chit_category"]=>
  string(11) "88"
}

Article

Wednesday May 28, 2008 12:04 am EDT
Civil Rights images capture the moments of a movement | more...
array(79) {
  ["title"]=>
  string(20) "Digital wonderground"
  ["modification_date"]=>
  string(25) "2018-06-16T00:59:37+00:00"
  ["creation_date"]=>
  string(25) "2017-12-29T19:21:41+00:00"
  ["contributors"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(29) "ben.eason@creativeloafing.com"
  }
  ["date"]=>
  string(25) "2008-05-28T04:04:00+00:00"
  ["tracker_status"]=>
  string(1) "o"
  ["tracker_id"]=>
  string(2) "11"
  ["view_permission"]=>
  string(13) "view_trackers"
  ["tracker_field_contentTitle"]=>
  string(20) "Digital wonderground"
  ["tracker_field_contentByline"]=>
  string(12) "Cinque Hicks"
  ["tracker_field_contentByline_exact"]=>
  string(12) "Cinque Hicks"
  ["tracker_field_contentBylinePerson"]=>
  string(6) "146030"
  ["tracker_field_contentBylinePerson_text"]=>
  string(7) "1306447"
  ["tracker_field_description"]=>
  string(37) "Spruill Gallery's Breaking New Ground"
  ["tracker_field_description_raw"]=>
  string(37) "Spruill Gallery's Breaking New Ground"
  ["tracker_field_contentDate"]=>
  string(25) "2008-05-28T04:04:00+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage"]=>
  string(30) "Content:_:Digital wonderground"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_text"]=>
  string(2700) "A scant six weeks on the job, Spruill Gallery Director Hope Cohn has hit the ground running with an exhibit featuring eight Atlanta artists, half of whom are Georgia Tech faculty, who execute work that draws heavily on digital technology. And the Dunwoody gallery's Breaking New Ground: Intersections at the Frontier of Art and Technology isn't a bad primer to the notion that art and technology aren't enemies, but partners in aesthetic investigation.

Kathryn Refi turns 1950s color field painting inside out by creating large-scale oil paintings that appear purely abstract, but in fact reference highly specific data collected from a head-mounted video camera. Refi wore the camera every waking moment for a week and then mined the footage for its color information in "Day 3" and "Day 4."

Danielle Roney, whose multimedia installations have sometimes lagged a half step behind her conceptual ambitions, brings the two together elegantly in "Liquid Architecture," a site-specific, two-channel projection that warps and morphs the Spruill site. Both artists bring a surprising tactile quality to their uses of digital technology.

Other works consist of a system the artist creates and then releases into the observer's hands. Visitors can manipulate sculpture to create and reshape ambient sound in Carla Diana's "Nest." Jason Freeman's online project "Graph Theory" allows participants to create violin solos on the fly from scraps of prerecorded sound.

Breaking New Ground's title is accurate mainly in that it refers obliquely to the upcoming construction of Spruill's 35,000-square-foot arts facility. The show itself, while engaging, sits about a decade back, when pervasive techno-euphoria insisted that art needed technology to "liberate" it. Cohn has favored work that emphasizes the technology – a curatorial straightjacket that limits the work mostly to utopian visions of futuristic light and sound. The approach accounts for most of the presentation's palpable gee-whiz, science-fair mode and a general absence of critical stances.

Breaking New Ground actually does "break new ground" in the rare instance when the artist refuses to get carried away by the technology, such as Roney in her critiques of architecture or when Refi exploits private information for public consumption. In a time when the most relevant technology-based art is tackling questions outside of technology, Breaking New Ground feels like a slightly dated but informative survey of the basics.

arts@creativeloafing.com

Breaking New Ground: Intersections at the Frontier of Art and Technology. Through June 26. Free. Wed.-Sat., 11 a.m.-5 p.m. 4681 Ashford Dunwoody Road. 770-394-4019. www.spruillarts.org."
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_raw"]=>
  string(2792) "A scant six weeks on the job, Spruill Gallery Director Hope Cohn has hit the ground running with an exhibit featuring eight Atlanta artists, half of whom are Georgia Tech faculty, who execute work that draws heavily on digital technology. And the Dunwoody gallery's ''Breaking New Ground: Intersections at the Frontier of Art and Technology'' isn't a bad primer to the notion that art and technology aren't enemies, but partners in aesthetic investigation.

Kathryn Refi turns 1950s color field painting inside out by creating large-scale oil paintings that appear purely abstract, but in fact reference highly specific data collected from a head-mounted video camera. Refi wore the camera every waking moment for a week and then mined the footage for its color information in "Day 3" and "Day 4."

Danielle Roney, whose multimedia installations have sometimes lagged a half step behind her conceptual ambitions, brings the two together elegantly in "Liquid Architecture," a site-specific, two-channel projection that warps and morphs the Spruill site. Both artists bring a surprising tactile quality to their uses of digital technology.

Other works consist of a system the artist creates and then releases into the observer's hands. Visitors can manipulate sculpture to create and reshape ambient sound in Carla Diana's "Nest." Jason Freeman's online project "Graph Theory" allows participants to create violin solos on the fly from scraps of prerecorded sound.

''Breaking New Ground'''s title is accurate mainly in that it refers obliquely to the upcoming construction of Spruill's 35,000-square-foot arts facility. The show itself, while engaging, sits about a decade back, when pervasive techno-euphoria insisted that art needed technology to "liberate" it. Cohn has favored work that emphasizes the technology – a curatorial straightjacket that limits the work mostly to utopian visions of futuristic light and sound. The approach accounts for most of the presentation's palpable gee-whiz, science-fair mode and a general absence of critical stances.

''Breaking New Ground'' actually does "break new ground" in the rare instance when the artist refuses to get carried away by the technology, such as Roney in her critiques of architecture or when Refi exploits private information for public consumption. In a time when the most relevant technology-based art is tackling questions ''outside'' of technology, ''Breaking New Ground'' feels like a slightly dated but informative survey of the basics.

''[mailto:arts@creativeloafing.com|arts@creativeloafing.com]''

Breaking New Ground: Intersections at the Frontier of Art and Technology. ''Through June 26. Free. Wed.-Sat., 11 a.m.-5 p.m. 4681 Ashford Dunwoody Road. 770-394-4019. [http://www.spruillarts.org/|www.spruillarts.org].''"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_creation_date"]=>
  string(25) "2018-01-20T19:39:04+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_modification_date"]=>
  string(25) "2018-01-20T19:39:04+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(3) "631"
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory_text"]=>
  string(3) "631"
  ["tracker_field_contentControlCategory"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_scene"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentNeighborhood"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelations_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelatedContent_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelatedWikiPages_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentBASEContentID"]=>
  string(8) "13027383"
  ["tracker_field_contentLegacyContentID"]=>
  string(7) "1273573"
  ["tracker_field_contentBASEAuthorID"]=>
  int(0)
  ["tracker_field_section"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["language"]=>
  string(7) "unknown"
  ["attachments"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["comment_count"]=>
  int(0)
  ["categories"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    int(581)
  }
  ["deep_categories"]=>
  array(3) {
    [0]=>
    int(242)
    [1]=>
    int(244)
    [2]=>
    int(581)
  }
  ["categories_under_28"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_28"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_1"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_1"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_177"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_177"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_209"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_209"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_163"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_163"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_171"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_171"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_153"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_153"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_242"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_242"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    int(244)
    [1]=>
    int(581)
  }
  ["categories_under_564"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_564"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_1182"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_1182"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["freetags"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["geo_located"]=>
  string(1) "n"
  ["allowed_groups"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(6) "Admins"
    [1]=>
    string(9) "Anonymous"
  }
  ["allowed_users"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relations"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relation_objects"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relation_types"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relation_count"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["title_initial"]=>
  string(1) "D"
  ["title_firstword"]=>
  string(7) "Digital"
  ["searchable"]=>
  string(1) "y"
  ["url"]=>
  string(10) "item180094"
  ["object_type"]=>
  string(11) "trackeritem"
  ["object_id"]=>
  string(6) "180094"
  ["contents"]=>
  string(2917) "    Spruill Gallery's Breaking New Ground   2008-05-28T04:04:00+00:00 Digital wonderground   Cinque Hicks 1306447 2008-05-28T04:04:00+00:00  A scant six weeks on the job, Spruill Gallery Director Hope Cohn has hit the ground running with an exhibit featuring eight Atlanta artists, half of whom are Georgia Tech faculty, who execute work that draws heavily on digital technology. And the Dunwoody gallery's Breaking New Ground: Intersections at the Frontier of Art and Technology isn't a bad primer to the notion that art and technology aren't enemies, but partners in aesthetic investigation.

Kathryn Refi turns 1950s color field painting inside out by creating large-scale oil paintings that appear purely abstract, but in fact reference highly specific data collected from a head-mounted video camera. Refi wore the camera every waking moment for a week and then mined the footage for its color information in "Day 3" and "Day 4."

Danielle Roney, whose multimedia installations have sometimes lagged a half step behind her conceptual ambitions, brings the two together elegantly in "Liquid Architecture," a site-specific, two-channel projection that warps and morphs the Spruill site. Both artists bring a surprising tactile quality to their uses of digital technology.

Other works consist of a system the artist creates and then releases into the observer's hands. Visitors can manipulate sculpture to create and reshape ambient sound in Carla Diana's "Nest." Jason Freeman's online project "Graph Theory" allows participants to create violin solos on the fly from scraps of prerecorded sound.

Breaking New Ground's title is accurate mainly in that it refers obliquely to the upcoming construction of Spruill's 35,000-square-foot arts facility. The show itself, while engaging, sits about a decade back, when pervasive techno-euphoria insisted that art needed technology to "liberate" it. Cohn has favored work that emphasizes the technology – a curatorial straightjacket that limits the work mostly to utopian visions of futuristic light and sound. The approach accounts for most of the presentation's palpable gee-whiz, science-fair mode and a general absence of critical stances.

Breaking New Ground actually does "break new ground" in the rare instance when the artist refuses to get carried away by the technology, such as Roney in her critiques of architecture or when Refi exploits private information for public consumption. In a time when the most relevant technology-based art is tackling questions outside of technology, Breaking New Ground feels like a slightly dated but informative survey of the basics.

arts@creativeloafing.com

Breaking New Ground: Intersections at the Frontier of Art and Technology. Through June 26. Free. Wed.-Sat., 11 a.m.-5 p.m. 4681 Ashford Dunwoody Road. 770-394-4019. www.spruillarts.org.             13027383 1273573                          Digital wonderground "
  ["score"]=>
  float(0)
  ["_index"]=>
  string(21) "atlantawiki_tiki_main"
  ["objectlink"]=>
  string(36) "No value for 'contentTitle'"
  ["photos"]=>
  string(130) "Coming Soon

"
  ["desc"]=>
  string(46) "Spruill Gallery's Breaking New Ground"
  ["chit_category"]=>
  string(11) "88"
}

Article

Wednesday May 28, 2008 12:04 am EDT
Spruill Gallery's Breaking New Ground | more...
array(79) {
  ["title"]=>
  string(31) "Midnight in America: Kid nation"
  ["modification_date"]=>
  string(25) "2018-06-16T01:44:46+00:00"
  ["creation_date"]=>
  string(25) "2017-12-29T19:21:41+00:00"
  ["contributors"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(29) "ben.eason@creativeloafing.com"
  }
  ["date"]=>
  string(25) "2008-05-14T04:04:00+00:00"
  ["tracker_status"]=>
  string(1) "o"
  ["tracker_id"]=>
  string(2) "11"
  ["view_permission"]=>
  string(13) "view_trackers"
  ["tracker_field_contentTitle"]=>
  string(31) "Midnight in America: Kid nation"
  ["tracker_field_contentByline"]=>
  string(12) "Cinque Hicks"
  ["tracker_field_contentByline_exact"]=>
  string(12) "Cinque Hicks"
  ["tracker_field_contentBylinePerson"]=>
  string(6) "146030"
  ["tracker_field_contentBylinePerson_text"]=>
  string(7) "1306447"
  ["tracker_field_description"]=>
  string(36) "Marcus Kenney at Marcia Wood Gallery"
  ["tracker_field_description_raw"]=>
  string(36) "Marcus Kenney at Marcia Wood Gallery"
  ["tracker_field_contentDate"]=>
  string(25) "2008-05-14T04:04:00+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage"]=>
  string(41) "Content:_:Midnight in America: Kid nation"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_text"]=>
  string(2451) "The most stingingly accurate rationale I've heard for Barack Obama's widespread popularity is that he allows white folks to feel that they've paid reparations without actually having to come up off any money. So while media pundits have been busy remembering to say "electable" instead of "light-skinned," Marcus Kenney — a white, Savannah-based collage artist — has been busy ripping into America's race problem without a whiff of punch-pulling code language.

His Marcia Wood Gallery exhibit, Midnight in America, features small-scale sculpture and nearly 30 "paintings" (the artist calls them paintings even though he only incidentally uses paint in his compositions) all made in the last 12 months or so, when the question of race in American electoral politics has become more important than ever.

Kenney builds canvases from paper-based cultural flotsam seemingly without restriction. Canceled checks, vintage greeting cards, postage stamps and more find room in his works. The result is a kind of anti-collage in which scraps are used as daubs of paint for their formal properties of color, line and texture, as much as for their ready-made imagery.

Such a painterly approach means that Kenney is free to build his images from scratch, allowing the raw materials' historical references to peek through only when he chooses. In "Lotto," a white girl lovingly cradles a white doll covered in blackface. While the source papers for the figures aren't particularly identifiable, lottery tickets clearly make up the thrumming background. What an apt metaphor for a miscegenated nation as it drags itself painfully toward a historic election.

Marcus Kenney is a homeboy. His compositional virtuosity does not at all conceal his oh-so-Southern love of weathered materials and sense of historical decay. But where a lesser artist might have drifted into nostalgia, Kenney rises into transhistorical prophecy. The cutesy children in his work don't refer to a mythic innocent age, but instead unpack the terror of the current moment as they cut each other's heads off or wear the face mask of a terrorist bandit. Old greeting cards and handwriting samples are treated as neither precious nor lovely, but as the background of a terrifying universe, troubled and troubling at the close of an American dream.

Marcus Kenney: Midnight in America. Through May 24. Free. Tues.-Sat., 11 a.m.-6 p.m. 263 Walker St. 404-827-0030. www.marciawoodgallery.com."
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_raw"]=>
  string(2495) "The most stingingly accurate rationale I've heard for Barack Obama's widespread popularity is that he allows white folks to feel that they've paid reparations without actually having to come up off any money. So while media pundits have been busy remembering to say "electable" instead of "light-skinned," Marcus Kenney — a white, Savannah-based collage artist — has been busy ripping into America's race problem without a whiff of punch-pulling code language.

His Marcia Wood Gallery exhibit, ''Midnight in America,'' features small-scale sculpture and nearly 30 "paintings" (the artist calls them paintings even though he only incidentally uses paint in his compositions) all made in the last 12 months or so, when the question of race in American electoral politics has become more important than ever.

Kenney builds canvases from paper-based cultural flotsam seemingly without restriction. Canceled checks, vintage greeting cards, postage stamps and more find room in his works. The result is a kind of anti-collage in which scraps are used as daubs of paint for their formal properties of color, line and texture, as much as for their ready-made imagery.

Such a painterly approach means that Kenney is free to build his images from scratch, allowing the raw materials' historical references to peek through only when he chooses. In "Lotto," a white girl lovingly cradles a white doll covered in blackface. While the source papers for the figures aren't particularly identifiable, lottery tickets clearly make up the thrumming background. What an apt metaphor for a miscegenated nation as it drags itself painfully toward a historic election.

Marcus Kenney is a homeboy. His compositional virtuosity does not at all conceal his oh-so-Southern love of weathered materials and sense of historical decay. But where a lesser artist might have drifted into nostalgia, Kenney rises into transhistorical prophecy. The cutesy children in his work don't refer to a mythic innocent age, but instead unpack the terror of the current moment as they cut each other's heads off or wear the face mask of a terrorist bandit. Old greeting cards and handwriting samples are treated as neither precious nor lovely, but as the background of a terrifying universe, troubled and troubling at the close of an American dream.

Marcus Kenney: Midnight in America. ''Through May 24. Free. Tues.-Sat., 11 a.m.-6 p.m. 263 Walker St. 404-827-0030. [http://www.marciawoodgallery.com/|www.marciawoodgallery.com].''"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_creation_date"]=>
  string(25) "2018-01-20T19:39:04+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_modification_date"]=>
  string(25) "2018-01-20T19:39:04+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(3) "631"
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory_text"]=>
  string(3) "631"
  ["tracker_field_contentControlCategory"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_scene"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentNeighborhood"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelations_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelatedContent_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelatedWikiPages_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentBASEContentID"]=>
  string(8) "13027287"
  ["tracker_field_contentLegacyContentID"]=>
  string(7) "1273386"
  ["tracker_field_contentBASEAuthorID"]=>
  int(0)
  ["tracker_field_section"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["language"]=>
  string(7) "unknown"
  ["attachments"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["comment_count"]=>
  int(0)
  ["categories"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    int(581)
  }
  ["deep_categories"]=>
  array(3) {
    [0]=>
    int(242)
    [1]=>
    int(244)
    [2]=>
    int(581)
  }
  ["categories_under_28"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_28"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_1"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_1"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_177"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_177"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_209"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_209"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_163"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_163"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_171"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_171"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_153"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_153"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_242"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_242"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    int(244)
    [1]=>
    int(581)
  }
  ["categories_under_564"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_564"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_1182"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_1182"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["freetags"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["geo_located"]=>
  string(1) "n"
  ["allowed_groups"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(6) "Admins"
    [1]=>
    string(9) "Anonymous"
  }
  ["allowed_users"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relations"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relation_objects"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relation_types"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relation_count"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["title_initial"]=>
  string(1) "M"
  ["title_firstword"]=>
  string(8) "Midnight"
  ["searchable"]=>
  string(1) "y"
  ["url"]=>
  string(10) "item180092"
  ["object_type"]=>
  string(11) "trackeritem"
  ["object_id"]=>
  string(6) "180092"
  ["contents"]=>
  string(2689) "    Marcus Kenney at Marcia Wood Gallery   2008-05-14T04:04:00+00:00 Midnight in America: Kid nation   Cinque Hicks 1306447 2008-05-14T04:04:00+00:00  The most stingingly accurate rationale I've heard for Barack Obama's widespread popularity is that he allows white folks to feel that they've paid reparations without actually having to come up off any money. So while media pundits have been busy remembering to say "electable" instead of "light-skinned," Marcus Kenney — a white, Savannah-based collage artist — has been busy ripping into America's race problem without a whiff of punch-pulling code language.

His Marcia Wood Gallery exhibit, Midnight in America, features small-scale sculpture and nearly 30 "paintings" (the artist calls them paintings even though he only incidentally uses paint in his compositions) all made in the last 12 months or so, when the question of race in American electoral politics has become more important than ever.

Kenney builds canvases from paper-based cultural flotsam seemingly without restriction. Canceled checks, vintage greeting cards, postage stamps and more find room in his works. The result is a kind of anti-collage in which scraps are used as daubs of paint for their formal properties of color, line and texture, as much as for their ready-made imagery.

Such a painterly approach means that Kenney is free to build his images from scratch, allowing the raw materials' historical references to peek through only when he chooses. In "Lotto," a white girl lovingly cradles a white doll covered in blackface. While the source papers for the figures aren't particularly identifiable, lottery tickets clearly make up the thrumming background. What an apt metaphor for a miscegenated nation as it drags itself painfully toward a historic election.

Marcus Kenney is a homeboy. His compositional virtuosity does not at all conceal his oh-so-Southern love of weathered materials and sense of historical decay. But where a lesser artist might have drifted into nostalgia, Kenney rises into transhistorical prophecy. The cutesy children in his work don't refer to a mythic innocent age, but instead unpack the terror of the current moment as they cut each other's heads off or wear the face mask of a terrorist bandit. Old greeting cards and handwriting samples are treated as neither precious nor lovely, but as the background of a terrifying universe, troubled and troubling at the close of an American dream.

Marcus Kenney: Midnight in America. Through May 24. Free. Tues.-Sat., 11 a.m.-6 p.m. 263 Walker St. 404-827-0030. www.marciawoodgallery.com.             13027287 1273386                          Midnight in America: Kid nation "
  ["score"]=>
  float(0)
  ["_index"]=>
  string(21) "atlantawiki_tiki_main"
  ["objectlink"]=>
  string(36) "No value for 'contentTitle'"
  ["photos"]=>
  string(130) "Coming Soon

"
  ["desc"]=>
  string(45) "Marcus Kenney at Marcia Wood Gallery"
  ["chit_category"]=>
  string(11) "88"
}

Article

Wednesday May 14, 2008 12:04 am EDT
Marcus Kenney at Marcia Wood Gallery | more...