Facultyshow
by Terry Miller

openingyight

Though the corner window has
metaphorically broken the traditional
insularity of the gallery space on this
occasion, it worked as a deterrent
rather than a come on. The site
specific piece that stated quite em-
phatically DO NOT ENTER served
well its' contradictory message. It
reinforced the tentativeness of my
agoraphobic approach because
through these windows I could also see
the huge mob inside.

The playful rudeness of the window
piece aside, this show overall felt
polite; polite to the level of seeming a
subdued and accommodating show.
Was this a response to public funding
questions or a gentler approach in
reaction to the general abrasiveness of
Artropolis? Was the politeness, in
fact, a consideration of one artist to
another in sharing the limited space?
The overall politeness of the show had
two effects that I noted. It seemed to
lull a usually unruly mob of art
students into a submission that
afforded a book cover or architectural
design equal potential for meaning as
R. Williams’ view of Hell from _
Satellite. This elevated some works
but diminished some otherwise
eloquent statements. The variety in
the use of materials was exceptionally
limited and traditional for an art
college hoping to present itself as being
on the cutting edge. Most of the works
were framed and/or free standing.
What about performance, video and
all the other new media? The “Un-
canny Nancy Cancy Chomski can

she”, hard copied and framed, lost
itself in the context of other framed
works.

B. Cole’s use of vaseline to hold up
her statement worked well in
opposition to the other polite
materials but I wanted great
smearings of vaseline to make the
stuckness an unavoidable part of it.
The relativity low ceiling does give 3-
d pieces room to breathe and the
narrowness of this space, combined
with the crowd, did not allow the
mobility necessary to really consider
3-d pieces anyway.

Overall, I did not:see a logic to the
groupings. Some were by medium,
others were not. Nora Blanck’s
pastels suffered from a sense that
they were placed one over the other,
not for aesthetic reasons but because
of crowding. They were flattened by
the dynamic architectural activity
next tothem. J. Davis’ bird souvenir
was also flattened and not allowed
enough consideration because it was
along the wall of 2-d pieces. The
length of that wall sets up an expect-
ancy of a series that leaves no one
piece autonomy.

It is a small gallery that generally
does not allow room for larger works
but the prime space in the room was
taken well by Pien’s peeing piece.
Expectation by students for teachers
who become the authority in cri-
tiques and at grade times, inevitably
set up questions like: :
“What’s so right about their work?”
If I can step back from this kind of
reactive viewing when I look again
tomorrow without the crowd,
perhaps I will see things differently.
rriday

Without the crowds the sightlines
were better, though I still think the
pieces along the long wall suffer from
a tendancy to become part of a
serial. On this viewing, however, I
noted a contradiction created in J.
Davis’ piece. The bird nest seems to
hide itself against that long dominat-
ing wall, away from the viewer. This
reminded me that the accompanying
bird calls generally have two pur-
poses; to invite a potential mate and/
or threaten competitors by defining a
protected territory. An apt meta-
phor for this show, as it would seem
to do the same.

MADAME ROSA/
ANTIDOTE

and her spirits from beyond

It is possible that I speak too soon.
Just-because I feel like it, doesn’t
mean you have to feel like it... and on
and on it goes. I do have a big mouth
though and it is possible that I just
can’t wait any longer.

We—ell, “My Daaalings” I think the
time HAS come!

Iam Madame Rosa. I am a spiritual
advisor, confidant, and bullshit artist.
I am also a Tarot Reader, of course,
and a healer too, that goes without
saying. I have learned many secrets.
over the years and I’ve picked up a
few spells and remedies and potions
along the way.

Also I am bad. I am a bullshit
artist. Blah, blah, blah, blah, out it
pours out of me, but I do like to have
my fu-un. You just have to tell me to
shut up sometimes and I will, I
promise. But what would life be

without a few little tricks, ah? No, no,
you have got to have your fun. It’s what
keeps you young, you know. The trick
is never to totally grow up and to keep a
place in your heart for your child. The
one with all the traumas, you have to
nurse out of yourself now, until that
child runs free and happy. No, no, no.
Don’t make me mad asking such silly
questions. If you don’t know that, you
know nothing. Nothing! There, I said
it. Laugh! Laugh! Laugh! You'll live
longer.

It’s just like my sister Clara, who’s
gone to the other side (goodness bless
her soul) always likes to say: You only
live once. At least in that body, so enjoy
yourself. Sing, dance, be crazy!” I’m
afraid to tell you she was a little crazy
by the time she got old. She used to
forget things, and she was told not to
drive by herself, because she got
disoriented and we'd have to come and
get ‘er anyway. Oh well, she was a most
amazing woman. Anything she tells
you, you think about it... she’s never
been wrong yet!!! Don’t fail to believe
her just because she’s crazy. No, that
would not be good for you.

But she was a sprightly old thing.
Thirty five years old ‘till the day we
buried her at 93. As lithe and nimble as
could be. Her mind had gone infantile I
think, and her body believed her. I

' think that’s all there was toit. She

never had an ache or a pain, she worked
out for Pete’s sake. I tell you, there is
just no telling how a life will turn out.
She musta been Fairy Folk or some-
thing, because they never grow old, and
they never sleep. They just drink their
wine and beer and party all night.
That’s what she was like, the rascal! __

You can try to outsmart it and we all
do, but in the end destiny seems to take
over and say, in it’s best 1930’s gangster
impersonation... “Hey you, this is the
way it is sheee, and there ain’t nothing
you can do about it, so just calm down
and nobody’s gonna get hurt.”

My poor mama’s favorite saying was:
Tf it don’t kill ya, it’ll make you
stronger.” Anyway, I’m bored with that
and I need another drrruum rollll.

So here it is, the honest truth, I
sweartr. I went to a psychic conference
in Russia a few years ago, and you know
I expected lab coats and geniouses at
this very serious composium of the
latest findings of the human mind. The
distinguished ladies and gentlemen by
very distinguished gentlemen and lady
geniouses in physics and phychic
research. All in their crumpled jackets
because they are too excited about being
with the world’s other greatest minds,
to wash or eat or sleep. Like a group of
mad professors, they pour over each
others findings and compare notes. The
ladies no longer wear make up because
they don’t even care about the third
dimension any more. They have
discovered the infinite!

Anyway, it wasn’t like that at all.

When I arrived there was a huge green

column of light that led one to the
conference room. When I arrived at my
destination, it spoke to me like a proper
English butler, “diner will be served in
the levitation room in 15 minutes.
Enjoy your stay.” Naturally I burst out
laughing, what else could I do?

This huge green thing of light looked
so ridiculous as an English butler that I
could not stop laughing. That was the
beginning. Maybe because I was
nervous or something, I had a laugh
attack and I could not stop. The
ridiculous column also began to split a
gut, and it literally did. I don’t know
what happened but it became bent
around the middle, it popped Mickey
Mouse feet and gloved hands with big
red buttons and it never went back to

- being a tall beautiful beam of light from

that day on.

Needless to say, it lost it’s job as
butler there because of the fact that it
was top-heavy and it’s upper weight
made it impossible to straighten out. I
felt oddly responsible and I asked him if
he wanted to hang out with me. The

Ridiculous Green Column accepted and
we went on our way. We ate in the
levitation room with our meals floating
six inches off our laps. The Ten
Thousand Flying Yogis were there to,
getting instructions for their political
careers. It waass vee-ry nice. It was all
vee-ry nice, like a circus. I never knew
what they were going to do next, and
they said it was all done by the human
mind.

I mean, I like to make a bit of money
you know, but I wasn’t fanatical or
anything about psychic matters. Iama
practical person, I always take things |
with a grain of salt and I tell my clients
to do the same in case I could be wrong.
It could happen, I could be wrong, or
just under the weather. My client could
beunder the weather. Psychic stuff
doesn’t work then. Tooo-00 much water
in the brain or something. I don’t
know. It has happened that I’ve been
wrong maybe a couple times, maybe
three or four I guess. I don’t remember.

Anyway, that’s where I met Els, an
ancient group of giants that liked to
play with genetics long ago, and they
helped to create us—human beings.
they made up formulas or something
and they made the alchemical reaction
possible that we call life on planet
Earth. Wow!!! I said to myself, ‘this is
kinda heavy.’ And quite honestly, I felt
a little scared. It was like meeting God
or something, and they just laughed.
“Little one, if only I could show you
what I know... you’d understand...great,
Tm a prisoner/guest in Russia, with a
bunch of really “out there” people, you
know... and I didn’t trust.

Soon after that I met my spirits from
beyond, who helped me and generally
they behave pretty nicely. Onceina
while FiFi La Few comes in with her
dirty jokes and gutter level humour and
we have to send her away. Lilith can be
quite bitchy sometimes but in a good
way. Basically, she’s a powerful woman
and she knows it. That’s all.

When I contact my spirits from
beyond, sometimes I get a group of
cynics, who must have died arguing,
because they're still together and
probably always will be ‘till one of them
reincarnates, and then they'll all want
to go along to finish their argument.
They don’t believe they are dead you
see. They are very stubborn. They try
to argue with me about existence and I
just tell “em, “If you aren’t dead ‘My
Daaaling’, then why are you talking to
me?”

Some smart-pants among them
always says; “And how do you know,
Madame Rosa, that this isn’t just a
dream we have both chosen to believe
in? Oh brother! Where to start with
that? “Best leave sleeping dogs lie”, I
always say.

Dennis the Menace comes in tel-
epathically sometimes. The real Dennis
the Menace, not that stupid kid in that
ridiculous movie! Bah! I’m getting mad
again. Imagine! Dennis doesn’t mind
though, he’s taken to haunting the
whole crew, and nothing ever goes right
for them anymore. He’s always pulling
stunts, but he’s invisible to people, see,
so they never know who did it. What a
pest!

SHUT UP ALREADY! YOU’LL
WEAR YOURSELF OUT!

Oh dear, oh dear, I’ve done it again.

Well, I will continue my story next
time “my darlings”. Write to me with
all your problems. My spirits from
beyond and I will try to help. Use me,
don’t abuse me......Or I'll turn you into a
you know what. Ta. Ta.

P.S. - PLEASE do not forget to cel-
ebrate the celtic goddess Brigit’s day.
She is the patroness of poetry, healing
and smithing. What better way than to
read a poem or two at Brigit’s Coffee
Night - Feb 3rd - good, cheap catering -
7pm - open stage at 8 pm.

T

Facultyshow
by Terry Miller
openingsight

‘Though the corner window has
metaphorically broken the traditional

rather than a come on. The site
specific piece that stated quite em-
phatically DO NOT ENTER served
well its' contradictory message. It
reinforced the tentativeness of my
agoraphobic approach because
through these windows I could also see
the huge mob inside.

‘The playful rudeness of the window
piece aside, this show overall felt
polite; polite to the level of seeming a
subdued and accommodating show.
‘Was this a response to public funding
«questions or a gentler approach in
reaction to the general abrasiveness of,
Was the politeness, in

another in sharing the imited space?
‘The overall politeness ofthe show had
two effects that Inoted. It seemed to
Julla usually unruly mob of art

udents into a sub
afforded a book cover or architectural
design equal potential for mea
R. Williams’ view of Hell from
Satellite. This elevated some works
but diminished some otherwise
cloquent statements. The va
the use of materials was exceptionally
limited and traditional for an art
college hoping to present itself as being
‘on the cutting edge. Most of the works
were framed and/or freestanding.
What about performance, video and
all the other new media? The
canny Naney Caney Chomski can

jon that

she”, hard copied and framed, lost
itself in the context of other framed.
orks.

B. Cole's use of vaseline to hold up
her statement worked wel in
‘opposition to the other polite
materials but I wanted great
smearings of vaseline to make the
stuckness an unavoidable part of
The relativity low ceiling does give 3-
4 pieces room to breathe and the
narrowness of this space, combined
with the crowd, did not allow the
‘mobility necessary to really consider
3-d pieces anyway.

Overall, I did not see a logic to the
‘groupings. Some were by medium,
others were not. Nora Blanck’s
pastels suffered from a sense that
they were placed one over the other,
not for aesthetic reasons but because
of crowding. ‘They were flattened by
the dynamic architectural activity
next to them. J. Davis’ bird souvenir
also flattened and not allowed
jon because it wi
along the wall of 2-d pieces. The
length of that wall sets up an expect-
ancy of a series that leaves no one
piece autonomy.

Ieisa small gallery that generally,
does not allow room for larger works
but the prime space in the room w:
taken well by Pien’s peeing piece.
Expectation by students for teachers
‘who become the authority in eri-
‘tiques and at grade times, inevitably
set up questions like:

“What's so right about their work?”
If can step back from this kind of
reactive viewing when I look again
tomorrow without the crowd,
perhaps I will see things differently.

rriday

Without the crowds the sghtlines
were better, though Ftill think the
Pieces along the long wal suffer from
4 tendancy to become part ofa
terial On thin viewing, however, I
noted a contradiction created in J.
Davis piece. The bird nest seems to
hide itself against that long dominat-
ing wal, away from the viewer. Tis
reminded me thatthe accompanying
bid calle generally have two pur-
poses; to invite a potential mate and/
tr threaten competitors by defining a
protected territory. An apt meta-
Dhor for this show, ax it would seem
todo the same.

MADAME ROSA/
ANTIDOTE
and her spirits from beyond

It is possible that I speak too soon,
ust because I feel like it, doesn't
‘mean you have to feo! like it... and on
and onit goes. Ido havea big mouth
though and itis possible that [just
can't wait any longer.

‘Wo—ell, “My Daaalings” I think the
‘time HAS come!

Tam Madame Ross. I am a spiritual
advisor, confidant, and bullshit artist.
Tam also a Tarot Reader, of course,
and a healer too, that goes without
‘saying. Thave learned many secrets
over the years and I've picked up a
few spells and remedies and potions
along the way.

‘AlsoT am bad. Iam a bullshit
artist. Blah, blab, blah, blab, out it
pours out of me, but I do like to have
my fu-un. You just have to tell me to
shut up sometimes and I will, I
promise. But what would lif

‘without a few litte tricks, ah? No, no,
you have got to have your fun. It's what
‘keeps you young, you know. The trick
is never to totally grow up and to keep a
place in your heart for your child. The
‘one with all the traumas, you have to
rnurse out of yourself now, until that
‘child runs free and happy. No, no, no.
‘Don't make me mad asking such silly
questions. Ifyou don’t know that, you
know nothing. Nothing! There, I said
it, Laugh! Laugh! Laugh! You'l live
longer.

It’s just like my sister Clara, who's
gone to the other side (goodness bless
hher soul) always likes to say: You only
live once, At least in that body, so enjoy
yourself. Sing, dance, be crazy!” I'm
afraid to tell you she was a little crazy
by the time she got old. She used to
forget things, and she was told not to
rive by herself, because she got
disoriented and we'd have to come and
fgot‘er anyway. Oh well, she was a most

she tells
Don't fail to believe
her just because she's crazy. No, that
would not be good for you.

But she was a sprightly old thing.
‘Thirty five years old ‘tll the day we
buried her at 98. As ithe and nimble as
could be. Her mind had gone infantile T
think, and her body believed her. I
think that's all there was toit. She
never had an ache or a pain, she worked
‘out for Pete's sake. I tll you, there is
Jjust no telling how a life will turn out.
‘She musta been Fairy Folk or some-
thing, because they never grow old, and
they never sleep. They just drink their
wine and beer and party all night.
‘That's what she was like, the rascal!

You can try to outsmart it and we all
do, but in the end destiny seems to take
over and say, in it’s best 1990's gangster
impersonation... “Hey you, this is the
1d there ain't nothing
you can do about it, so just ealm down
‘and nobody's gonna get hurt.”

‘My poor mama’s favorite saying ws
‘Fit don’t kill ya, it make you
‘stronger.’ Anyway, I'm bored with that
‘and I need another drrruum roll.

So hereiit is, the honest truth, T
‘swearrr. I went toa psychie conference
in Russia a few years ago, and you know
expected lab coats and geniouses at
‘this very serious composium of the
latest findings of the human mind. The
distinguished ladies and gentlemen by
very distinguished gentlemen and lady
‘geniouses in physics and phychic
research. All in their crumpled jackets
‘because they are too excited about being.
with the world’s other greatest minds,
to wash or eat or sleep. Like a group of
mad professors, they pour over each
others findings and compare notes. The
ladies nolonger wear mab
they don’t even care about
dimension any more. They have
discovered the infinite!

Anyway, it wasn't like that at all,
When I arrived there was a huge green
column of light that le one to t
‘conference room, When I arrived at my
destination, it spoke to me like a proper
English butler, “diner will be served in
the levitation room in 15 minutes.
Enjoy your stay.” Naturally Tburst out
Jaughing, what else could I do?

‘This huge green thing of light looked
so ridieulous as an English butler that I
could not stop laughing. That was the
beginning. Maybe because I was
nervous or something, Thad a laugh
attack and I could not stop. The
ridiculous column also began to split a
gut, and it literally did. T don't know
‘what happened but it became bent
around the middle, it popped Mickey
‘Mouse feot and gloved hands with big
red buttons and it never went back to
being a tall beautiful beam of light from.
that day on.

Needless to say, it lost i's job as
butler there because ofthe fact that it
‘was top-heavy and it’s upper weight
‘made it impossible to straighten out. I
‘alt oddly responsible and I asked him if
hhe wanted to hang out with me. The

idiculous Green Column accepted and
‘we went on our way. We ate in the
levitation room with our meals floating
six inches off our laps. The Ten
‘Thousand Flying Yogis were there to,
{getting instructions for their political
careers. It waass vee-ry nice. It was all
‘veo-ry nic, like a circus. I never knew
what they were going to do next, and
they said it was all done by the human
mind,

Tmean, like to make a bit of money
you know, but I wasn’t fanatical or
‘anything about psychic matters. Tam a
practical person, I always take things
‘with a grain of salt ana I tell my clients
to do the same in case I could be wrong,
Itcould happen, I could be wrong, or
Just under the weather. My client could
bbe under the weather. Paychic stuff
doesn't work then. Too0-00 much water
in the brain or something. I don't
know. Ithas happened that I've been
wrong maybe a couple times, maybe
three or four I guess. T don't remember.

‘Anyway, that's where I met Els, an
ancient group of giants that liked to
play with genetics long ago, and they
holped to create us—human beings.
‘they made up formulas or something
‘and they made the alchemical reaction
possible that we cal life on planet
Earth, Wow! said to myself, this is
kinda heavy.” And quite honestly, I felt
alittle scared. It was like meeting God
or something, and they just laughed.
“Little one, if only I could show you
what I know... you'd understand...great,
Tma prisoner/guest in Russia, with a
‘bunch of really “out there” people, you
know... and I didn't trust.

‘Soon after that I met my spirits from
beyond, who helped me and generally
they behave pretty nicely. Once in a
while FiFi La Few comes in with her
dirty jokes and gutter level humour and
we have to send her away. Lilith can be
quite bitchy sometimes but in a good
way. Basically, she's a powerful woman
and she knows it. That's

When I contact my 5
beyond, sometimes T get a group of
cynies, who must have died arguing,
because they/re still together and
probably always will be ‘till one of them.
reincarnates, and then they'l all want
to.go along to finish their argument.
‘They don't believe they are dead you
see. They are very stubborn. They try
to argue with me about existence and I
Just tell “om, “Ifyou aren't dead ‘My
‘Daaaling’, then why are you talking to

‘Some smart-pants among them
always says; “And how do you know,
‘Madame Rosa, that this isn't just a
‘dream we have both chosen to believe
in? Oh brother! Where to start with
‘that? “Best eave sleeping dogs lic", I
always say.

‘Dennis the Menace comes in tel:
epathically sometimes. The real Dennis
the Menace, not that stupid kid in that

lous movie! Bah! I'm gett
‘again. Imagine! Dennis doosn't mind
though, he's taken to haunting the
whole crew, and nothing,

stunts, but he's i
so they never know who did it. What a
pest!

‘SHUT UP ALREADY! YOULL
WEAR YOURSELF OUT!

‘Oh dear, oh dear, Tve done it again

‘Wall, Iwill continue my story next
‘time “my darlings”. Write to me with
all your problems. My spirits from
beyond and I will try to help. Use me,
don't abuse me.....Or I turn you into a
you know what. Ta. Ta

P.S.- PLEASE do not forget to cel-
ebrate the celtic goddess Brigi’s day.
She is the patroness of poetry, healing
and smithing. What better way than to
read a poem or two at Brigit's Coffe
[Night - Feb Srd - good, cheap catering -
‘7pm - open stage at 8 pm.