City Arts Fest: Culture Club and Visual Art

Photos by Rachel Shimp

Jennifer Zwick's fierce neon sculpture, It Will (Never) Get Better, was made in 2007. Reading so in the program for "Lightness"--the third one-off visual installation in as many days at FRED Wildlife Refuge--gave me an odd sense of relief. For a moment, I took it for a cynical approach to the pro-gay-youth, anti-bullying campaign, It Gets Better. The fact that those three words are now imbued with so much meaning is a little bit awe-inspiring. If I saw Zwick's creation four years ago, I would immediately apply it to the push-pull of other struggles: making a living, finding true love, finding purpose. I'm not sure if the negative signifier was dimmed for the duration of the installation, but in keeping it so (even sometimes), Zwick underscores the bulb of compassion and hope that can flare in our internal darkness.

"Lightness" was my favorite of City Arts Festival's specially curated shows during the weekend (here curated by Amanda Manitach and Serrah Russell). It was the one I found most open to interpretation, the subtlest and easiest to commune with as a gallery interloper. I believe I missed out on elements of each of the shows by arriving after the 6-9 p.m. artist-hosted happy hours, and I'd love to hear the observations of those who did attend.

During "Lightness," Saskia Delores presented a 1-minute, 55-second-long experiment involving a vintage brass bird cage, video projection, sound, paper costume and dance. Susie Lee mimicked an evolving constellation of stars--in many senses of the word--by choreographing a paparazzi swarm. But as I reached the gallery in between other events, I was alone. Muted luminosity shone from the pieces still on display, wrapping me in a tiny, quiet cocoon among the festival din.

Justine Ashbee's fluid illustration style sprang to life on the back wall in Golden Wonder, an intricate and amorphous collection of handwoven brass threads. Lit from inside by a collaboration with Iacoli McAllister, it invited a very close-up view. It was hard not to touch it--especially since Ashbee's forms are so often on flat paper, leaving you wondering about where the lines are flowing to, how and when and why they'll meet. 

Nearby, four white wooden boxes, slung low on the floor, complemented Ashbee's sulpher shelf-like piece by evoking more of the woods. Box Growth Series, by Francesca Lohmann, showed just that: the beginnings of decay created artifically through tiny perforations and embedded light. Glowing the faintest shades of blue and green, the moldy, delicately raised shapes looked like islands seen from above. My mind shooting down like an accelerated Google Earth image, picturing forests and coastlines studded with messy new splotches of life here and there. These simple boxes had me wondering about all that's living and dying on earth, and the secret beauties in places few people visit.

Please tell me what left an impression on you at City Arts Fest's Culture Clubs!