Sculpture has traditionally been thought of as a tough guy activity. Tote that steel base, lift that girder. In the past, it`s been a primarily male domain, a sort of art club house with a sign that read ”No Women Allowed.”
The current group exhibition of sculpture by Chicago women at Artemisia, 341 W. Superior St., disproves that notion in a particularly engaging way: not by trying to match muscles with the men (although several pieces in particular embrace a certain almost brute strength of scale and material), but, rather, by expanding and redefining the concept of sculpture.
Called ”Her Infinite Variety,” the show lives up to its title by exhibiting the strikingly varied work of 18 artists who work in many different media: wood, ceramic, concrete, metals and plastic.
It was curated by Victor M. Cassidy, an art collector and writer who also works as a trade magazine editor; he proposed the idea of a group exhibition of sculpture by women–the first ever in Chicago–to Artemisia, a co-operative gallery run by women members, and he found the title for the show in Shakespeare`s ”Antony and Cleopatra.”
”It`s a nice line,” says Margo Shermeta, one of the featured artists.
”But it does tend to put the work in a jewel-like category.”
Any such impression, however, is irrevocably reversed by a first viewing of the group work. ”Her Infinite Variety” is not a collection of overly wrought, precious pieces, but, rather, an impressive array of very strong forms.
From Margaret Wharton`s ”Lift,” a witty stilt-like structure that ends en pointe in toe shoes to Joan Livingstone`s ”Lacerta,” a giant lizard sporting a wavy crest of felt, Jeanne Dunning`s brass and crystal
”Chandelier” outfitted with tapers of red brick or Christine O`Connor`s cartoon-style ”Saint Sebastian” with neon-colored blood, the sculpture defies any categorization by gender.
”My criterion for the show was excellence,” says Cassidy, who selected these artists from among more than 70 local sculptors. ”I didn`t have any particular thing I wanted to prove, although I did start out with the idea that women tended to work on a smaller, more personal scale. What I ended up deciding was that there are no absolutes.”
Cassidy says he has no problem with the seemingly inherent contradiction of a man curating a show of work by women. ”Sculpture is a universal thing. You don`t have to be a woman to look at the work and know it`s good. In everything I saw, there was absolutely no work that expressed the sentiments of the `70s. Nobody makes flowers turning into sexual organs now. There were no babies being born, no angry denunciations–although there are some very strong, personal issues in this work.”
Although several of the artists began sculpting from the beginning of their careers, many of the women represented here started off, as Margo Shermeta did, originally working in other forms. Shermeta, who is represented here with three figure-form basket weavings, says, ”I`ve come from a fiber base to sculpture. I moved because I couldn`t get beyond a design concept on the loom. This isn`t because of the loom itself; but gradually, I discovered that I`m not a two-dimensional person.”
It was a basic discovery and one that all the artists in ”Her Infinite Variety” share, although the sources that inform their work and the areas of interest they explore are diverse.
”I was trained in drawing and print-making,” says Frances Whitehead.
”So in a way, not being schooled in sculpture–I never felt it was available to me–has been good. That`s allowed me to invent my own ways of doing things.”
In this show, Whitehead is represented by a large, leaning contraption of copper that`s covered with verdigris, a greenish patina. It encompasses both a sense of history and a certain logic of function, like a detailed rendering of some ancient, mythical tool. In reality, the sculpture was based on one of her spatulas.
Her interest, Whitehead says, was in creating something ”where its physicality was apparent yet it also pulls a lot of other strings.”
The obvious chemical overtones in Whitehead`s work call to mind references to alchemy, yet she feels that`s only a partial reading of her intent. ”What I`m interested in is how we know things and how we decode history. One of the things I`m trying to do is embrace the physical world in a real, overt way and for me, sculpture is the way to do it.”
Bonnie Hartenstein worked for years as a painter, doing reliefs or painting on fabric. ”Then I began coming out into the space,” she says. Her work in this show, a mixed collage installation that centers on a pathway leading to or from a door, reflects her love of shape and texture.
”Over the years I found myself collecting doors, either from when I`d move or then from the street outside my studio, without any clear intention of what I was going to do with them,” says Hartenstein. ”Gradually I`ve started incorporating them into my work. I think a door is a commonly understood metaphor; I`m interested in the idea of entry and both known and unknown mysteries.”
In many ways, mystery is one of the underlying, if unintentional, themes found in this group show. A wooden mask by Mary Stoppert, a continuation of her series about a mythological queen, exudes a powerful, noir sensibility.
”Male House,” by Sharon Gilmore, extends the metaphor of houses as containers of the body; the house, beyond the smooth surface and obvious, identifying sexual details, remains inscrutable. Michele Corazzo`s ”Eight Hand Sculptures” are intricate little puzzles of visual and tactile beauty. And large monolithic shapes by Ellen Kamerling rise up and lean into each other, forming a wishbone of either mutual support or mutual dependence.
Other artists featured in ”Her Infinite Variety” are Alice Joyce, Linda Kramer, Alexandra Kochman, Kathy Lehar, Rory Leonard, Christine Rojek and Karen Stahlecker.
For several of them, the concept of a ”separatist” show such as this one–that is, an exhibition dedicated to showing work only by women–is a mixed blessing.
”It`s particularly hard for women sculptors to get a chance to exhibit, so in that way, I think this show is great,” says Frances Whitehead. ”You can`t help but wonder, though, what the reaction would have been if it had been titled `Recent Chicago Sculpture.` The Museum of Contemporary Art is having a show called `Recent British Sculpture.` It`s all men, but no one would even think of calling it `Male Sculptors from Britain.` ”
Margo Shermeta agrees. ”Can you imagine a show called `His Infinite Variety?` It sounds ludicrous.”
Most of the women agree that this separate-and-not-always-equal treatment is slowly disappearing–ironically, thanks in part to exhibitions like this one at Artemisia. ”In a perfect world, who needs it?” says Whitehead. ”I mean, I don`t want to be in the Women`s Museum in Washington, D.C. I want to be in the Hirschhorn with the big boys.”
But probably the prevailing attitude of this group of artists is best summarized by Sharon Gilmore. ”I used to really try to hide the fact that I was a woman,” she says. ”But I`m not going to fight it anymore. If the work comes out looking like a piece done by a woman, fine. And if it doesn`t, that`s fine. As far as I`m concerned, the work stands alone.”
”Her Infinite Variety” at Artemisia, 341 W. Superior St., runs through Dec. 28.
