Union Hall, the compact, nonprofit contemporary art space tucked into a corner of a condo building downtown, has gained a reputation as the gallery that cares about curators.
Its “Rough Gems” program is an annual, competitive call for show organizers to pitch new ideas. From the submissions, Union Hall selects three projects and supports them with the gallery space, mentorship and marketing that allows them to succeed.
For the public, critics, collectors and other museums, “Rough Gems” is an opportunity to encounter fresh talent and see what the next generation of curators is thinking.
With the current show, curator Zak Ashburn is thinking in punchlines. The exhibition, “Laugh Lines,” which continues through April 20, is meant to mine art’s funny side, and the works included, from six artists, all can be viewed as humorous or ironic.
Humor is rarely easy to pull off in a serious art gallery, especially in a setting like Union Hall, where the walls are painted black and the works, for the most part, are illuminated by particularly bright lights that jolt out of the ceiling and deliver a lightning-bolt level of whiteness upon their targets.
There is very little ambient light in the room, and art exhibitions at Union Hall can feel more like theatrical productions — there is a lot of drama. With such blaring attention set upon the objects on display, each needs to shine in the moment or it can feel like something of a letdown.
When that moment — as it does in this show — demands that they also deliver a chuckle, the pressure goes up tenfold. It’s funny or fail.
And because these works are part of a curated gallery exhibition, they have to have something of a serious side to them, as well. If they don’t go for something greater than a chuckle, they fall short. What is the difference between a comic strip and a work of art? Art has to make us see things in new ways, to expand or enhance our way of understanding the world.
To a large degree, the show succeeds. One reason is because the first thing that visitors encounter when they walk into Union Hall’s small space is an object suspended from the ceiling that appears to have the head of shark, with pointy, sharp teeth, and the legs of a human, wearing something that looks like red go-go boots.
Made with papier mache, the piece comes off a children’s piñata, though with a very dark edge. The surprise delivers the necessary guffaw.
But artist Carolina Maki Kitagawa Frisby is indeed going for something deeper. Her piece starts with a family-friendly cultural symbol — the piñatas popular at gatherings in Mexico where she lives and works — but adds an aura of danger. She wants us to consider the complexities of life for children, especially those born near the U.S.-Mexican border.
There is a lot of of work being created around human rights issues along international frontiers right now, and the overabundance tends to drown out the real issues it hopes to talk about. Kitagawa Frisby’s work is difficult to miss in the flood.
Artist Yiwei Leo Wang, who was born in China and describes himself as a “millennial world citizen of the digital age,” offers up a similar clash of traditional object and contemporary thinking that warrants a chuckle. His piece takes the shape of a scroll, an old-school form of mass media, but he has subbed a roll of toilet paper for the historic roll of parchment.
On each sheet, he has printed what appears to be a post from his from own Instagram feed, “madebyleowang.” The image is murky — and that is probably a good thing; no one wants to think too deeply about the markings on toilet paper. But the piece offers plenty to consider on the nature of identity, notoriety and the rapid and cyclical nature of how we communicate ourselves to others in the current age.
There are easier objects to look at in the exhibition. Betsy Rudolph’s “All You Can Eat Seafood Buffet,” is a cartoon-like underwater scene of various fish swimming among the tall, lighted-up signs you see along highways that advertise places like Arby’s, Taco Bell, Burger King and 7-Eleven. There is a playful aura to the piece. The colors, rendered in paint marker on panel, are brilliant and the fish are adorable.
But an undercurrent is clear. The glaring symbols of our capitalist culture have ruined our landscape while feeding us with unhealthy stuff. Yes, it is a serious subject, but it goes down with a guffaw.
“Laugh Lines” is not a large show. There are just 14 pieces, and many of them are modest in size. But curator Ashburn has organized it well and stayed very much on point. Ashburn is not just thematically sharp here, there is also a visual coherency to the works that were chosen. They share bright and colors, fluid lines; there is a lot of movement in all of the objects, and they come together nicely.
Curating is not just about proving an idea, it is also about building shows that appeal to the senses so that people actually stick around long enough to try and understand what is being suggested.
This show does that, and with humor, which can be challenging, even dangerous, in an era when contemporary art takes itself so seriously at each opportunity. Not every piece reflects everyone’s idea of a joke, but this exhibition is full of light.
Ray Mark Rinaldi is a Denver-based freelancer writer specializing in fine arts.
IF YOU GO
“Laugh Lines” continues through April 20 at Union Hall, located inside The Coloradan building at 1750 Wewatta St. Free. Info: 720-927-4033 or unionhalldenver.org.
