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ARTISTIC LICENSE: The year in review

by Mark Webber
Weekender Correspondent

As 2009 draws to a close, critics of every sort are reflecting on the cultural state and its best and worst contributions. A summary of this sort is both intriguing and frustrating for many reasons, not the least of which is the simple fact that I don’t get to as many shows as I’d like and can’t really evaluate fairly all that is going on. Trust me when I say, though, that the best work I’ve seen this year hasn’t been the stuff most hyped. Much of it hasn’t been exhibited at all.

The money that backs the art we see doesn’t always come from informed sources. Many of the artists I respect most work quietly in their studios solving problems they’ve dealt with for years instead of churning out accessible, saleable pap or writing grants proposals that revolve around “projects” aimed at captivating well-meaning but essentially pedestrian grant panelists.

On the positive side of the ledger is the energy of the region’s youth. A lousy economy may force older artists who depend upon regional sales to rehash lame clich�s for easy cash, but most of the younger artists I know, who haven’t tasted any form of success, are still hacking away energetically at the as-yet-undefined objective. Many of these are students at Keystone College and Marywood University, including Sean Costello, Russ Noto, Heather Remley, Jen Bulay and Christa Felice, but some don’t appear to be affiliated with any institutions. An outstanding example is Timmy Montana, who I recently reviewed in Springville at the Schoolhouse Gallery and Studios. Montana’s kinetic sculptures of rural churches and their congregations are some of the best and most delightful three-dimensional works I saw this year.

Also upbeat is the blossoming and survival of various galleries, increasing the general yield of viewable treats. As far north as Montrose, home of the Butternut Gallery, and as far south as Paper Kite in Kingston — or is it Edwardsville? — galleries are somehow surviving against all odds. In a recent, entirely unscientific poll conducted by this observer, it was found that most people in Northeastern Pa. are willing to drive farther to play a slot machine that to sip free wine at an art opening. And yet, for the most part, shows go on, and venues such as the brand new, if somewhat generically named, Art Works Gallery and Studio, the beautiful new space on Lackawanna Avenue in Scranton, continue to open their doors to great enthusiasm.

The only downside, I’m sorry to say, is the continued, healthy presence of art with a message. When art works well, it expresses the finely tuned sensibility of the artist. And this, more than anything else, is what is meant by “artistic expression.” It is not tied to what an artist is expressing about the subject matter. It is tied to what the artist is expressing about the best way to make the thing, the work of art. The “how,” not the “what” of it all. I avoid writing about shows I don’t care for, so I haven’t mentioned this much.

But earnest assertions about, say, politics or social ills, have never made for the best art. I’d rather not get into a litany of the unfortunates who don’t get this yet, so I’ll identify some who do get it. Earl Lehman and Zoja Forsberg continue to work hard at arranging color and shape and continue to reward us with gorgeous pieces. And while content-heavy works generally bore me, there was much such in the work of one photographer, new to our local scene, who thrilled me: Carla Reck, whose show at Anthology Books took many by surprise.

Other highlights of the year include Karen Reid’s engaging glass work at Laura Craig and Jim Lennox’s fantastic flight machine sculptures at Marquis in Wilkes-Barre. I want one of those.

The region’s saddest loss came in the death of Carl Berg, another photographer, and much-admired artist.

Outside NEPA, the Vermeer and Bonnard shows at the Met were certainly two of the year’s highlights and worthy of several visits. If you didn’t see these exhibits, it’s possible that you aren’t as serious a looker as you think. For cryin’ out loud, they were only a couple hours from here.

Happy New Year!

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Mark Webber - Weekender Correspondent  
weekender@theweekender.com