It’s not often that I get to combine two of my favorite things into one superior, glorious uber-thing, mostly because it’s not every combination that works successfully. I mean, I like heath bar ice cream, and I also enjoy bacon. Unfortunately, combining the two might be perceived as an act of treason.
I also enjoy pretty girls, and have an affection for robots. Combined, these two entities satisfy every need that a red-blooded young male might require – adventure, sex, comedy… and probably some other things that a red-blooded young male might forget when faced with the prospect of adventure, sex and comedy. When the Upstate Artists Guild in Albany, NY proposed their national juried art exhibition under this theme, I was psyched. I got my act together, submitted some paintings to them, and vowed that whether or not I was accepted into the show, I’d have to make the trip to see how the collective artists of the United States understood pretty girls and robots.
Being a robot enthusiast, I’ve collected many little toys and trinkets relating to the general robotic theme. It’s a casual endeavor – not an intense search to complete any specific collection, because the breadth of robots in pop culture is so wide that collecting robo-themed items is an insurmountable task. My love of robots penetrates deep enough to have inspired me to make my own collections of robots in paintings, drawings and sculpture. I’m not the only one to do this, and I’ve also found myself attracted to the infinite number of ways that a ‘robot’ might be interpreted. Among the more prominent artists who have addressed both ‘pretty girls’ and ‘robots’ are Sorayama and Ashley Wood, but I’m just as interested in the interpretations by the everyman. [Warning : links to artists might not be suitable for all audiences.]
The UAG Gallery opening was at 5:30 PM on May 12th, in between grey raindrops and an impossible parking situation on Lark Street. Greeted by mad scientist imagery and strange rocketships in the front display, it promised to be an interesting show. The long gallery was dominated by obnoxious techno music, presumably to emphasize the dehumanized ‘robot’ theme, as well as the horrible grinding noises of a particular sculpture comprised primarily of a motion-sensitive saw. As we approached the back room and came face-to-face with an older lady being actively strapped into a corset, I began to wonder what I’d stumbled into.
All of the work on the gallery walls, all 66 pieces, were accompanied by sale prices ranging from the hundreds to thousands of dollars. If one was particularly enamored with a piece, there was nothing from stopping its purchase besides a fist full of bills. In this way, it was as much of a ‘robot collectors’ event as it was a simple look-but-don’t-touch gallery affair. For a list of the artists, click here.
The general theme of the works tended to lean towards pretty girls OR robots, with only a few works spanning the relationship between the two. From acrylic photorealism to sculptural assemblage, abstraction to pop surrealism, just about every style was explored. I took photographs of many of these works and they’re on display in a webgallery here, for your perusal. While not many works stood out above the rest, I feel that this was because of the disjointed theme of the show itself, which ended up breaking into two very disparate themes. Instead of many interpretations of a singular idea, there were interpretations of two ideas, without the unity of a common style or idea to bring everything together.
One would approach an image, and instead of thinking ‘what an interesting interpretation of the theme!’ or allowing the work to stand on its own, you had to constantly question ‘what did THIS person think the theme was?’ or ‘how does this fit into the show?’. In an environment where coherency is key, it just wasn’t sticking.
It was a fair show, and there were plenty of opportunities for collectors of either robots or pretty girls to add items to their collections. I found myself uninterested in hanging around for two long, grated by both the unpleasant music and the snooty gallery folk. When I hear the word ‘robot’, I think of fun, not plates of prosciutto and people more interested in being seen than the art itself. But hey, maybe this snootiness comes with money. Money that’ll buy my ridiculously overpriced painting.
Here’s hoping.
Albany was hosting Tulip Fest on the following day, with a live show by They Might Be Giants, so we stuck around. On the way out of the gallery, we stopped by a comic shop and I found a rare Eduardo Risso Batman statue, so that pretty much washed away the pretention of the gallery. There’s an opportunity to collect at every corner.
