THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1994, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Saturday, July 16, 1994 TAG: 9407150088
SECTION: DAILY BREAK PAGE: E1 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: BY TERESA ANNAS, STAFF WRITER
DATELINE: NEW YORK CITY LENGTH: Long : 120 lines
EARLY LAST month, Lawrence Gipe, the muckraking artist, stood outside his new home in a grimy, industrial section of Manhattan.
Gipe - who speaks tonight at The Chrysler Museum during a preview reception for a show of his work - surveyed the sinister view.
It was rush hour at Canal and Washington streets. Several lanes of traffic were backed up to the entrance to Holland Tunnel, two blocks west. Within sight were two tall brick structures, one for sucking bad air out of the tunnel, one for pumping clean air in.
The downtown vista resembled his artwork - large, lush paintings emulating early 20th century propagandistic, posterlike images of ships, planes and factories.
Posters that portrayed smokestacks as progress - not pollution.
Posters that promised jobs - not abuse.
The 29 works on view at the Chrysler are part of Gipe's ongoing project called ``Themes for a fin de siecle,'' begun in 1990. The project includes numerous series, most of which are represented at the Chrysler.
Fin de siecle - French for ``end of a century'' - may be the ideal label for Gipe's work. A century ago, fin de siecle suggested progressive ideas. Now it denotes decadence.
In Gipe's art, he joins images once used to conjure hope and progress with ironic phrases.
``It's one thing to put the word `acquisition' with an image of five trains speeding out of a Chicago train station,'' Gipe explained. ``And it's something else to put the word `loss' with that image.
``Or, `guilt.' ''
One of his first series was ``The Krupp Project,'' concerning the family of Alfried Krupp, who produced and supplied Nazi arms and abused his workers; he was later given a light sentence by Americans who wanted his help in the Cold War.
Gipe's ``The Century of Progress Museum'' looks at the cost of progress. With his series, ``Futurama,'' he examines the symbol of the metropolis - the phallocentric skyscraper.
His latest body of work is ``The Robert Moses Project,'' focused on one of New York's most significant urban planners. In the series, represented by two works in Norfolk, Gipe blows the whistle on the notion of Moses as a man of the people.
Moses (1888-1981) orchestrated the development of New York City from 1924 to 1963, according to an Associated Press biography. In that time, he was responsible for all the bridges, tunnels, parks, highways and recreational facilities that got built.
Gipe believes that Moses started out with an honest concern for the common man, but ended up abusing his power.
Moses once said that, of all his projects, he was proudest of Fire Island State Park and Jones Beach on Long Island.
But when Jones Beach opened in 1929, he made sure the bridges over the parkway leading to the beach were built too low for mass transit, Gipe said. Only passenger vehicles were allowed, so he believes Moses wanted to reserve this beach for the middle and upper classes.
Ironically, Gipe - who studied art at Virginia Commonwealth University in Richmond before moving to Los Angeles a decade ago - was now living in the midst of Moses' work.
``He hated tunnels,'' said Gipe, staring at the exhaust-spewing cars lined up to enter the Holland Tunnel, connecting New York to New Jersey. ``He said they were like tiled lavatories underground. But I think the real reason he hated them is because you couldn't see his handiwork.
``Bridges. Nice, expensive bridges. That's what he liked.
``But he hated those tunnels,'' said Gipe, grinning. ``So, I sort of like them being here.'' Black comedy
As muckrakers go, Gipe projects a healthy, happy, decidedly non-obsessive demeanor. In anticipation of eventual baldness, he maintains a crewcut. His dress is crisp and stylish, reflecting the designer-consciousness of the Los Angeles neighborhood he moved from in May.
Gipe, 31, spent enough time in-doors as a youngster in Baltimore, watching old movies with his dad.
``Cagney, Bogart. I remember my father trying to get me to watch `Citizen Kane.' ''
Watching black-and-white movies from the '30s and '40s with his dad was just about the only way the two related, Gipe recalled. His father was obsessive about these films, and had an incredible video library.
Later his father, George Gipe, found success in Hollywood as a screenwriter, collaborating on two 1980s comedies with Carl Reiner and Steve Martin - ``Dead Men Don't Wear Plaid'' and ``The Man With Two Brains.''
Both films borrow heavily from early black-and-white films.
That same black-and-white world of good guys and bad guys and clear intentions filtered into Gipe's artwork - but got twisted along the way.
Gipe wants his images, borrowed from Fortune magazine advertisements of the day and other sources, to project the initial ``unbridled optimism'' that existed regarding progress.
``I want an outward appearance of being celebratory, with an ironic commentary about industry.''
Black comedy.
Not everybody grasps Gipe's subject.
``My generation thinks Krupp makes coffeemakers. Nobody my age was very interested. But people my father's age were more interested.
``So, maybe I made those paintings for my father.''
If only George Gipe could see them.
``He was sitting by a pool one day. He got stung by a bee and died. A comedy writer's death. Totally bizarre.''
That was 1986; he was 52.
Black comedy, in his bones. MEMO: EXHIBIT FACTS
What: ``Lawrence Gipe,'' a solo show by a New York artist. Part of
the Parameters series of contemporary exhibits.
Where: The Chrysler Museum, 245 W. Olney Road, Norfolk
When: Opens Sunday. Continues through Oct. 9.
Hours: Tuesday through Saturday, 10 a.m. to 4 p.m.; Sunday 1 to 5
p.m.
How much: free
Call: 622-ARTS or 664-6200 ILLUSTRATION: Color photos
Color photo by Sebastian Piras
by CNB