Buffalo Hunting: Images of Shame and Power
By Mark Swartz
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Artist Jay Doering metaphorically overmatches Mr. James’s firepower with an untitled sculpture that takes the form of a small but workable cast-iron cannon. Pointed at the doorway of the gallery, his sculpture makes one of those dangerously playful gestures that grown-up little boys seem to enjoy. In effect Doering is saying, This is not a neighborhood where you casually play with guns. Another piece of his, Abe Lincoln’s Bazooka, makes a playful but less macho statement: its barrel is a big log.
Panya, a Tennessee native of Laotian descent, memorializes the 1950s automobile–possibly the single best-known icon of all Americana. He renders in oils on copper and wood such models as the 1955 Ford Thunderbird, superimposing them on silhouettes of miscellany like the ducktail hairstyle and poodle-skirted chick. If there’s any surprise here it’s that there are no surprises: Panya neither juxtaposes irreconcilable iconography nor attempts to rupture contiguous meanings. His copper-and-wood fetishes are too well crafted to be ironic, but I can’t think of a purpose for making them except irony.
Or is it universal? All of the artists in “Spaced Out” are male. Debra Hatchett, who’s curated exhibitions tailored to local theatrical productions through Anatomically Correct for the past few years, says she looked for female perspectives: “I tried so hard to get a woman in this exhibit, but even though I’m told there are women who do this kind of work, I couldn’t find one.”
