Yes, I think it’s going to be a
long, long time
Till touchdown brings me 'round again
to find
I’m not the man they think I am at
all
Oh no no no
I’m a Rocket Man
This song was stuck in my head while viewing the installation.
This song was stuck in my head while viewing the installation.
Sally Gil’s installation aptly titled, Another Way In, at Jack
Geary Contemporary (185 Varick Street @ King) is an encompassing visual journey
spanning past, present and future. This work isn’t something typically seen in
lower Manhattan at a commercial gallery, for an in vivo process installation with artist working,
crafting, creating, with open door invitation to the source of her full
expression (paint, fabric, maps, walls) is wild and illuminating. Geary allowed for this freedom, and good
chemistry allowed Sally to get down to work. This is something more inventive, reminiscent
of early Williamsburg, Soho or the Village when artists inhabited spaces and co-mingled
with community by bridging access to people on the street who enter and meet
the artist at work, before the dominating and raging art star market boom. Sally's installation is person to person, face to face: the fantastic images horizontally
travel the perimeter of the room in time-line fashion.
The time-line loosely moves left to right and tumbles out of a wall (with the door to enter the space) painted entirely black with tiny white stars and asteroids and abstract blips painted and collaged with a yellow rosebud, as a shooting star, optimistically propelling itself through the darkness. At this point we can stay with the time line or take off anywhere our visual interest takes us. There is no rule or logical direction dictated by the dominant horizontal pattern which moves from flowers and stars swirling into a field of grazing cattle and transitioning into kids on an African beach playing on surfboards with purple mountains hazily holding the scene in the distance. Those mountains and the water are a combination of photo collage and paint without any stylistic clumsy transition. Sally's craftsmanship of impeccable editing through chaos, selection of images and ability to paint to "match up", without it feeling too literal or stunt the flowing experience, is pure poetry.
The time-line loosely moves left to right and tumbles out of a wall (with the door to enter the space) painted entirely black with tiny white stars and asteroids and abstract blips painted and collaged with a yellow rosebud, as a shooting star, optimistically propelling itself through the darkness. At this point we can stay with the time line or take off anywhere our visual interest takes us. There is no rule or logical direction dictated by the dominant horizontal pattern which moves from flowers and stars swirling into a field of grazing cattle and transitioning into kids on an African beach playing on surfboards with purple mountains hazily holding the scene in the distance. Those mountains and the water are a combination of photo collage and paint without any stylistic clumsy transition. Sally's craftsmanship of impeccable editing through chaos, selection of images and ability to paint to "match up", without it feeling too literal or stunt the flowing experience, is pure poetry.
The fine craftsmanship of Sally’s
work seamlessly and viscerally grabs the space as she submerges herself into
each and every detail of the piece, yet freely allows herself to travel in all directions. Is this a sculpture, a painting and a
collage? If this intense work is is going to be experienced and absorbed we will have to slow
down, put away our phones and visit details which bleed cut out magazine pages and
fabric into paint. The hot water pipes and electrical outlets are collaged and
expand the boundaries of the materials and images. Painted black galaxies
puncture dark holes between poetic stream of conscious visual narratives which,
for me, remind us how tiny and insignificant we are in the vastness of the
celestial universe. There is an astronaut 3 feet above me untethered over a
blue mountain. We will go with her on this journey which like intensely felt ephemeral existence, and it is both exhilarating and challenging to keep up. Taking beautiful detours, which are vital for survival (Sally's and mine) is essential for our health. Sally provides tons of them, and I am grateful she is so fantastically able to provide for us.
Sally deeply cares about creating
and it is evident, depicted in delicate paint strokes creating blue green shadows where
wall meets material revealing tactile, colorful beauty which exists in our natural
and manmade space, here on earth. There are flowers bursting and fruit dripping off a mountainous rainbow lake. Tucked behind that is a tiny photo of a 1950's ranch house which, if discovered, opens up an entirely new context for the viewer.
If only we would take some time to
look.
Mars ain’t the kind of place to
raise your kids
In fact it’s cold as hell
And there’s no one there to raise
them
If you did.
Rocket man
Burnin' out his fuse up here alone
Sally and I met about 25 years ago.
She went to UCSD with a mutual friend who is now far away, but remains a warm
shared memory. Sally has lived in Park Slope forever, designed shoes for 20
plus years and raised a family. Her most recent studio borders Gowanus. She
never gave up creating. She is like many friends of my past who are diehard
artists -whose names we all don’t know and work doesn’t flash in our memories.
They work hard and continue to believe in themselves when the commercial NYC Art
World spit them out. Sally knows that it means more than that to be an artist. This is partly why I want to write about her,
because her timeline and narrative somehow parallels the back room installation
at Geary’s gallery. She is a significant,
mature artist who lives and works here. Her work is visionary, alive and an
expansive product of the heart of her creative soul.
She refuses to be extinguished.
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