Nina Lola Bachhuber’s “Untitled/2010.” (calfskin, steer horns, wigs, polystyrene, paint, tights, leather, branches) Photo by Javier Cambre, courtesy of Momenta Art
Nina Lola Bachhuber can glean a lot of evocation out of just a couple materials. In her rectangular banners, or “flags,” currently at Momenta Art, those materials are silky acetate fabric and human hair. Though uniform in dimension and color (all works in the show are black), each flag possesses a unique personality through the use of strategic cuts and woven hair. A few resemble dresses with fur trim. Others are more animalistic, evincing horse manes and rodent tails. The creepiest pieces, however, have got to be the ones that look like the backs of human heads—pigtails, ponytails, combed coifs—all of which could be scalps removed from schoolgirls. The flags are like tribal insignia for esoteric neuroses.
At the center of the exhibition sits a sculpture that further instills the idea of primal urges. Two beasts perch on tree branches and square off as if preparing to do battle. These twin creatures are made of calfskin masks the size and shape of human heads, with shoulder-length curly hair and steer horns protruding from the mouth area. They evoke sadomasochism as well as some dark sacred ritual. Monochromatic and bleak, “Nachtschatten” raises questions of mortality, femininity, instinct, and allegiance. Like Joseph Beuys before her, Bachhuber finds sacrosanct energy in organic materials. Unlike Beuys, her work is pristine and under control.
NINA LOLA BACHHUBER, “NACHTSCHATTEN”
Momenta Art, 359 Bedford Ave., through 12/19
James Esber’s “Execution,” 2010. Image courtesy of the artist and Pierogi
A droll humor permeates the work of James Esber, as he appropriates stylistic inspiration from benign, even childish, sources. Most strikingly, this playfulness appears in three-dimensional portraits made of Plasticine, a synthetic clay substitute used in schools. Esber piles on layers of the colorful putty, smudging and stretching it to make disorienting vignettes of personalities who found fame as five-o’clock news stories. In “Sully Sullenberger,” the long-faced aviator who crash-landed on the Hudson River stares out with earnest eyes and a toothy grin straight out of a Norman Rockwell. Esber’s distortion of Sullenberger’s features will forever change how I picture the pilot, and the piece makes me smile every time I see it.
Some paintings in the show use cartoon devices to tackle the issue of war. For “Alphabravo,” the artist riffs on the blocky logo from “Schoolhouse Rock,” while spelling out the letters of the NATO Phonetic Alphabet—Alpha, Bravo, Charlie, Delta, Echo, and so on. “Soldier with Star” shows a malformed sheriff’s star blotting out an ink drawing of a modern-day. The soldier is weighed down and ultimately overpowered by the o soldier ppressive emblem.
Dominating the exhibition are 104 squiggly drawings of Osama bin Laden, whose bulbous features practically invite cartoon mockery. Though Esber designed the pattern, other artists and laypersons, including lawyers, teachers, therapists, kids, and relatives, executed the drawings. Esber wanted to see how each person would improvise the restrictive template using just two colors (red and black) and their own imaginations. Many of the draftsmen color the lines to accentuate bin Laden’s lips and eyes and turban, but others found ways to depict prison bars, the star-spangled banner, a peace sign, even a child holding the hand of an adult. Esber’s output of cartoon imagery seems boundless, and I hope he continues to find strange new ways to push the medium.
JAMES ESBER, “YOU, ME AND EVERYBODY ELSE”
Pierogi, 177 N. 9th St., through 12/19
Maya Hayuk’s “Heavy Light,” (mural). Image courtesy of Cinders Gallery
Greeting you through the windows of Cinders Gallery is yourself—well, your reflection anyway—in two diamond-shaped mirrors framed by black-light tubes. (Smile, and your teeth will glow.) The mirrors forecast the psychedelic environment you enter when you cross the threshold into the realm of “Heavy Light,” a floor-to-ceiling installation by multifaceted artist Maya Hayuk.
Once inside, the walls vibrate with densely applied Day-Glo hues, also illuminated by black light. A mural to the left features triangles smeared in fluorescent paint and offset by black negative space, transforming the flat wall into an illusion of zigzagging planes. The overall effect is of a colossal Navajo blanket colored with highlighters.
On the opposite wall hang thirty-odd acrylic paintings: some depicting objects (hamburgers, conch shells), some magically abstract (stripes, splatters, whirls), and some in between. In the “in between” category are baroque chandelier-like configurations composed of stylized peacocks, pineapples, palm fronds, beads, and lessidentifiable objects. These tropical motifs in conjunction with their soothing symmetry can warm the soul on a cold December night.
Hayuk’s installation, though, cannot be understood as a series of individual pieces. The paintings themselves form a larger work of art, which likewise has a symmetrical arrangement. The space in its entirety calls to mind a futuristic New Age meditation hut or a stoner’s dorm room circa 1968, where loud colors and paint spots interrupt balance and harmony. To accentuate this impression, patchwork beanbags on the floor invite the viewer to sit back and zone out.
MAYA HAYUK, “HEAVY LIGHT”
Cinders Gallery , 103 Havemeyer St., through 12/22
Sadly, “Heavy Light” will be the final show at Cinders Gallery’s location on Havemeyer Street, where it has resided since 2004. Hayuk will host a closing potluck on December 22, and a “funeral” for the space takes place on December
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