body fluency

Debra Baxter
Palate Cleanse (big dumb heart)
Alabaster, steel
24 x 8 x 7 in
2009

There's a streak in art that I'm sure has been explored deeply by many (if you have names, lemme at 'em), but that I find I'm always referencing. I'm very often drawn to artists who deal with the human body as the central metaphor. I want to call it something fancy like Corporal Proclivity or something. Body Fluency. And this is funny because the phenomenon is essentially non-verbal. It's related in some way to the impulse to dance, to create physical theater or performance, even to gesture with your own body and face, in order to communicate something beyond words. And the body itself is only another vehicle for accessing things less corporeal.

Seeing Debra Baxter's show at Howard House sparked these sensations in me, several times, even in the unusual Seattle heat of the evening, even with a sweaty baby strapped to my chest, even at an art opening, for goodness sake (I marvel at the cursory glancing done at openings, compared to the attention we're able to give art in less social settings, but still enjoy the energy of those nights). Maybe it's because I was in the setting of an art opening, where tongues wag and wander, and we spill out weird small talk in between observations and catching-up, but the tongue pieces spoke especially loudly--and ironically--about being at a loss for words... about wanting to start over-- peel it back, cut it off!-- in a mixture of desperation and hope. All this to say, Debra's work, which I've liked ever since I was a new transplant trawling the internet for interesting work in Seattle, is especially powerful in person. While not all of her work is body-related, much of it resonates with either a muscular physicality or the ephemeral and delicate constant of breathing. (For those in Seattle who haven't seen this show-- my write-up is very late-- the show is only up for two more days!)

Dust Mask (Catching My Breath)
Alabaster, sterling silver
5 x 4 x 2.5 in
2009


Time Out
Glass, sand, sterling silver, african wonder stone
14 x 13 x 10 in
2009

On the subject of the body speaking, I just returned from an engaging and exciting work-in-progress viewing of Jillia Pessenda's Force Feed (v. 1) at the Henry Art Gallery's Open Floor series. The bodies of Jillia and partner Jim Bovino were buried, rolled, hidden and interrupted by a shopping cart, an enormous rug, a garden hose, a vacuum cleaner and plastic detritus as they struggled through a domestic relationship built of poetic gasps and quotidian lists that seemed to spin off of each character into the void. I found myself covered in persistent goosebumps several times, especially in response to the more physical representations of the relationship that was being portrayed. I can't wait to see the extended version-- my main critique is that it was too short!