Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: SUNDAY, February 10, 1991 TAG: 9102080415
SECTION: EXTRA PAGE: E8 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: Ann Weinstein
DATELINE: LENGTH: Long
Jones, in the exhibit's catalog, says he is committed to "more than just a mirror reflection of everyday life," and wanted "passion in painting, together with a certain level of mystery and ambiguity." He got it.
Although relatively small, both in size and number, the paintings are varied in styles, techniques and statements. Jones pushes the differences in an enlightening installation and explains their historical influences in the introduction to the beautifully designed catalog.
The biomorphic shapes and soft, intricately painted surfaces of four small oils by Darrell Dean recall early modernism, first introduced at the beginning of the 20th century.
They look almost classical when juxtaposed to the exaggerations of Jim Harrison's acrylics. Hand-lettered or drawn in a rough cartoon style, they are funny, in a very disturbing way. In image or text, they spell out people's cheapest fantasies - or worst fears. It's hard to tell his "Success Stories" from a upscale nightmare.
Across the room, Hayes Friedman paints two stolid stylized female figures, with precision drawing and sculptural modeling, in not quite frozen activity. In contrast, the surface of the painting looks as if it were flattened by the effects of non-glare glass. Wall, windows and floor are painted in flattened planes in exceedingly shallow space. "The Card Player," which is the title of the painting, alludes to the monumentality of Cezanne, while one of the dramatic faces is borrowed from Iberian sculpture, by way of Picasso.
The male symbol of a fish (literally out of water) and female triangular shapes - in negative spaces, rigid ponytails, an isolated segment of a blouse - add conceptual and visual intrigue.
Beverly Donnenfeld's black-and-white acrylic paintings look like chalk on blackboard, including erasures. Childishly drawn figures, with broad bodily gestures (which violate the edges in "The Event Hurtles into Space") are caught somewhere between specific people and generalized situations. They corroborate a sense of disjuncture and lack of comprehension. "Letting Go," a picture of falling rider and bicycle, easily could be called "Getting Dumped."
Rex Weil compiles carefully controlled compositions on board, with wires, coils and electronic innards under heavy impasto enhanced with splintered wood, bottle caps and other debris. Mostly monochromatic, but color is used to reinforce spatial depth, which is situated in front of the picture plane. The formal images, made of incongruously casual material, look like abstract expressionism for a cool, electronic age.
Jo Rango's cartoon painting, "Exit," which she dignifies with the serious medium of oil, combines the jumble of irrationality with resigned humor, the stuff of daily life and a litany of disparate images - crib, crocodile, children, bird, bugs, spiders, spiral, ferret, tower and a disappearing crowned woman. Max Beckmann or Pablo Picasso, it signals the artist/mother's fantasy of departure or just plain flipping out.
Wayne Bryan equates home with coffin, cockroaches, fake flowers and death in one of his "Paranoia" series. Who ever said "stone walls do not a prison make?" Gina Gilmour introduces symbols and social commentary into solid architectonic structures.
(The show runs through Feb. 28. The Danville Museum of Fine Arts & History, 975 Main St. , is open Tuesday through Friday, 10 a.m. to 5 p.m.; Saturday and Sunday, 2 to 5 p.m.)
\ Constance Larrabee's photographs at the Maier Museum, at Randolph-Macon Woman's College in Lynchburg, prove that the real magic of the camera is what an impassioned, insightful and talented photographer can do with spare technique, utter honesty and black-and-white film.
The images are poetic, compelling and self-explanatory. The clarity of texture and detail endow a remote place and culture with physical reality. The titles refer to Johannesberg, Soweto, Pretoria, Zululand, Swaziland - places making news almost 50 years after the photos were taken. Larrabee makes them more touching and immediate than our own back yard.
The narrative sequence documents the struggle for existence in South Africa, from an austere countryside to unreceptive urban streets to the harshness of life in the townships.
The telling is in the gesture, rhythm and pattern, as well as the face, costume and environment. It's a sad, discouraging story of transition, conversion, loss - of before and after: of belonging and dislocation; dignity and despair; celebration, grace amplitude and alienation.
One of the earliest pictures in the show shows a young boy dancing in the spontaneous joy of life. It seems to me that, placed as it is at the end of the show, it promises false hope and a happy ending inconsistent with the emotional progression of the images that precede it.
(The show runs through Feb. 17. Maier Museum, RandolphMacon Woman's College, is open Tuesday through Sunday, 1 to 5 p.m.)
AUTHOR NOTE: Ann Weinstein has been an art critic for this paper since 1976.
by CNB