A couple of Fridays ago I went with friends to this sculpture exhibition at Brett McDowell Gallery
They were REALLY cool and you can buy them for $350 - $850. In my opinion, totally worth it if you have the money
Here's the review I wrote for the Art Writers group I belong to...
Suji Park's That Which Opens at the Brett McDowell Gallery is somewhat proof that cute and discomforting are not oxymoronic. Imperfect mounds of clay, the artists hands still clearly visible, are transmogrified into realistic human postures, combined in collections, presented on podiums. At 20cm high they're not intrusive, they sit comfortably in the small gallery space amongst the crowd of observers. It could be mistaken for an unsettling version of a Frankie exhibition, yet it's this sinister innocence in which Park finds a beautiful juxtaposition. And if you fancy it, there's even a religious undertone running through the collection.
As you enter, you find to your left a collection of Swimmers, barely raised from ground level. They seem content, passively happy in their activities. A child's dream. The clearly drawn-on watercolour and graphite detail feel obtainable and familiar, the two figures almost inspiring you to go away and replicate them. However, this simplicity is purely superficial. Our self-consciousness permeates through the characters. Why is it that they feel the need to go and sun-bathe under bright gallery lighting? Or is it more to show a necessity for us to open ourselves up to receive enlightenment from Park’s work? For the rest of the room contains pedestals bearing sculptures in which Spirituality and Sexuality would seem to reign Sovereign. A relationship is found in nakedness and prayer, evidenced in Park’s interest in showing the genital area.
The sharpest details of most pieces are the eyes, observing the observer. They're captivating, somewhat unsettling as they ceaselessly look longingly from their ceramic bodies. What are they missing in life? What the heck are they making us feel..?
A piece of the Procession collection looks skyward, kaleidoscopic triangles on his stomach posing a sharp contrast against deathly grey body as they point with his stare. Is he dying or praying? His cheeks redden and he screams. Does prayer breach the wall between here and death? Every aspect of this moribund figure is distressingly attractive. His back arches. Then his poised mouth is no longer screaming. He's taking a long, soul-catching breath. But he was doing that the whole time, of course, drawing you in. Still, the eyes!
Conspiracy is haunting, the title is perfect. Postures lean in, whisper. Institutionalized religion? Where has the naked Spirituality gone?
"And as you go out into the world, may the Lord make you truly thankful," says the priest to the collection of sculptures gathered around him in Sermon. His magic works, it's difficult to leave the exhibition feeling otherwise.
Procession
That Which Opens- Poet
Visitation
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