THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, October 29, 1995 TAG: 9510280049
SECTION: DAILY BREAK PAGE: E1 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: BY TERESA ANNAS, STAFF WRITER
LENGTH: Long : 153 lines
ON A RECENT Sunday afternoon, artist Ruth Laakso and house cleaner John Campbell wrestled with the meaning of art at an opening in Virginia Beach.
The two moved from display to display at the Virginia Beach Center for the Arts during a reception for ``IS IT ART? Transgressions in Contemporary Art.''
They paused at the exhibit of artist Mel Chin, who considers the transformation of a hazardous waste site into healthy soil his art work.
Campbell, having already read Chin's material, explained to Laakso his understanding of the project, which involved the use of detoxifying plants.
``Oh, how interesting,'' Laakso said. ``But, how does that relate to his artwork?''
``Well,'' Campbell said, indicating Chin's delicate drawing of a plant, ``this is a traditional landscape. And he's relating it to his new kind of landscape.
``What he's saying, and I see the point, is that his art form is landscape. But it's a late 20th century landscape.''
``It's a creative thing,'' Laakso mused, ``but is it art?''
``OK,'' Campbell said, ``the individual pieces obviously are art. There's a detailed drawing, and a model. Those are traditional forms.''
Campbell stopped short, suddenly inspired. ``In our culture, we have split art from life to a great degree. In other cultures, they have not.''
Aha. An answer.
``In Bali,'' he went on, ``they don't have a word for art. It's just an integrated part of what they do.''
The Virginia Beach residents - strangers until their gallery encounter - moved toward the work of Orlan. The artist's display featured color photos of her face during various stages of healing from plastic surgery. One patron took them for photographic evidence of physical abuse.
``This gal is using as her medium her face,'' Campbell said, ``which should give one pause.''
``She's re-sculpturing herself,'' said Laakso.
``I find it grandstanding,'' Campbell said. ``Who is she? What is she? Is she just a pop artifact? What it brings up to me is women being sold a bill of goods in our culture. That you're not OK as you are. That you need to do a lot to look like Barbie.''
Orlan, in fact, is striving to look and behave like a mix of Venus, Psyche, Europa, Diana and the Mona Lisa.
``But you men will look at the ones who look like Barbie dolls,'' Laakso shot back. ``So, we do it for you.''
Such intense dialogue among patrons is the great hope of the organizers of ``IS IT ART?'', which presents the work of 15 nationally known, cutting-edge artists who live elsewhere - California, New York.
The artists' work is extreme. Orlan has made an art form out of reshaping her body, mind and soul through plastic surgery and psychotherapy.
Photographer Sherrie Levine's art process is to photograph reproductions of famous photos. Sophie Calle has photographed strangers sleeping in her bed, in order to convey the frightening detachment she sees as inherent in many jobs.
The point of the exhibit, organized by Bard College art educator Linda Weintraub, is to show why this work is considered art.
But would the people buy Weintraub's explanations?
Visitors at the arts center reception seemed to be working hard to unravel the mysteries of this art.
Art in here is kind of odd,'' said Ron Schmidt of Norfolk. ``When it's odd, I think it looks better. Like something you wouldn't see every day.''
Schmidt brought his bright 10-year-old son, Jesse, to the exhibit. ``I'm glad he appreciates art,'' Schmidt said. ``I think it's important, because the public schools don't push art. So I have to go out of my way to expose him to art and music.''
At that moment, Jesse was appreciating a sculpture by Meyer Vaisman. In fact, it was a stuffed dead turkey almost entirely covered over with long white Icelandic lamb's wool.
``It sort of looks like a rooster with a whole bunch of fur on,'' Jesse said.
Is it art? ``Yeah. Well, a lot of art is weird sometimes. I don't know. I'd say it's art because it's manmade.''
He paused. ``There is really nothing else I'd say. I couldn't think of anything else to say why it's art.''
Did his dad see it as art?
``My criteria is: Can I hang it on my wall or enjoy it. And something like this would be hell to clean. With kids around, it wouldn't last long.''
Ron Schmidt's prediction about Vaisman's art: ``This is fanciful, but it is not going to project us into the 21st century.''
I can allow for art to be an expression of anyone's offering. But if it's heartfelt, I prefer it,'' said Carole Steinberg, a Virginia Beach mother of three.
``If it's something in praise of the world, I like it better.''
After searching the gallery for some time, Steinberg said she found little to inspire her. ``Nothing touches my heart. I like exalted art - El Greco, the Impressionists.
``I'm still of the old school. My preference is beauty. Because a thing of beauty is a joy forever. And forever is the true test in art.''
She acknowledged that much of the art dealt with the harsher realities of life. ``If this is what civilization has come to, let's pray about it.''
A color photograph by Laurie Simmons struck her as amusing. Titled ``Chicken Dinner: 1994,'' the image was of two dummies in a bar. A thought balloon containing a TV dinner stems from one dummy's head.
``Now, who's thinking about who? Is the chicken dinner thinking about the dummy? Because, it's more alive.''
This is the most powerful thing for me,'' said Edwin Mapes, a Virginia Beach writer.
Mapes strode to a display featuring art by Sophie Calle, whose subject is the loss of intimacy in our society.
A kiosk had been set up by each artist's work, with objects and text intended to illuminate the art. One panel on Calle's kiosk featured self-help books on regaining intimacy in one's life.
``Here's a book I'm familiar with - `The Dance of Intimacy,' '' said Mapes, who has written a book titled ``Journey Into Being.''
Nearby, a series of black and white photographs by Calle was of strangers sleeping in her bed. Mapes said he saw the unkempt bed as a metaphor for a person.
``It's about people, just the way they are. As opposed to the way they might like people to think they are.''
But is it art?
``I believe that everything is art - especially if it represents people as they are.''
Art photographer George S. Williams was drawn to a work by Sherrie Levine - actually, a copy of a famous Walker Evans photo of a poor farm woman during the Depression.
The Virginia Beach man understood the concept immediately. ``I've stolen before,'' he said. He's taken stills from a video of nude models, then transferred the image into wet plaster.
``I call them neo-frescos,'' he said.
He gazed at Levine's 1986 work, titled ``Bacham Green Portfolio No. 5 (After Walker Evans).''
``What we're looking at is a reproduction of a reproduction of Walker Evans' photograph. It's pretty straightforward. If I was doing it, it would be altered a little bit.
``Essentially, she has just duplicated it.''
The idea of faking an image interested him, he said. ``In our society, fakes have a certain intrinsic value. There are fake Rolexes, fake ancient relief carvings.''
But is it art?
Yes, he said. ``Although, if she would have added something more of her own, in my opinion, that would have made it more art.
``But it's not up to me to justify it. It's up to her to justify it.''
Then he paraphrased Marcel Duchamp, who in the 1910s exhibited urinals and shovels as art. It was a quote that empowered him, and one that neatly applies to ``IS IT ART?'':
``It is art, because I as an artist say it is.'' ILLUSTRATION: Color photos
Graphic
DENIS FINLEY
MARTIN SMITH-RODDEN/Staff
[For complete graphic, please see microfilm]
by CNB