Alternative Art Show Makes One Long for Tradition

In The Transmogrification of Post-Intellectual Myth, an art show which opened in an off-campus house on Saturday, April 22, simple arrangements of typical objects found around a college house became art installations, ranging from the silly to the conceptually daring. While many of the pieces challenged problematic notions of art, it was often unclear as to whether or not the artists were simply kidding around.

The artists, a group of college and Conservatory juniors who call themselves the Studio 77 Art Collective based on their address on East Lorain St., produced a serious exhibition in many respects.

A catalogue and program guide to the show, passed out at the door, outlined some of their intent. "There is a fine line," it reads, "between meticulously labeled art, hanging on the walls, and pieces of assorted detritus."

By ascribing what they describe as "function" to it - namely, turning it into art - the group hopes to blur that line. As lofty a goal as it might be, the Collective did not always succeed in their mission. For example, a large imprint in the wall - entitled "Indentation #37" - simply hung there, not much more than a dent in the building. Like many of the pieces, it seems to have been composed spontaneously, which is to say, it was not originally intended as art.

While this approach - which the program refers to as "the unconscious or subconscious art factory" - can be useful in distilling art out of the everyday, it has a fatal flaw: lack of editing. Not everything can be art. It is here that the show treads on thin ice. While some pieces seemed carefully considered, others seemed like they were just random items with identifying cards thrown onto them.

Junior Jason Porterfield's "Beer Can In Front Window," for example, was no more than a Miller High Life can placed in the house's front window. It is a sight typical of many college houses, no doubt. When pointed out, as the explanatory card in front of it does, it becomes somewhat interesting.

However, in the case of "Beer Can," that's all it does, and that's the problem. It highlights a placement for an alcoholic beverage that would seem abnormal in the outside world, but perfectly acceptable in a college housing situation. It doesn't say anything beyond that.

Likewise, "Lost Child Crying In The Woods," made by Porterfield along with juniors Franklin Gould and Jesse Jarnow, seems to be simply a vacuum cleaner obliterated by the artists with the help of a baseball bat and golf club. There is an elaborate justification for the piece in the catalogue. "There's that old saying 'to everything there is a season,' meaning everything does have its place," the card reads. "It's my belief that objects should be defined by what they are and not where they are. Liberating the detritus is a way of doing that." Despite the explanation, it's hard not to see any more than a smashed vacuum cleaner.

Other pieces were more successful. Sophomore Aaron Brown's highly conceptual "Sproutlings On Trees" declared the beer, being served from a keg, as art. By drinking the beer, attendees would take the art into their bodies, ultimately urinating it out into the sewage system.

Making a joke on the self-sufficiency of the Adam J. Lewis Environmental Studies Center, Collective Members claimed the piece improved the "aesthetic environment" of the world, just as the systems of the Environmental Studies Center are supposed to improve physical environment. It's a silly point, but one that's worth considering.

The evening, on the whole, can be summed up best by a performance in the basement by the Larry Sellers Experience: a group comprised of Brown, Jarnow, junior Aaron Hillyer and two friends, juniors Jeffrey Hanson and Michael Rosenthal. The band wailing improvised soundscapes in the building's dank basement. While there were moments of coalescence and coherence, they were few and far between, and that seemed to suit the band just fine.