The title of the Kristi Lippire and Matt
Wardell’s show at Bunny Gunner, “Luxurious
Captivity,” conjures ideas of an accommodating jailer,
the domestication of wild things, the curbing of instinct
and resentment within the subjugated human heart. Yet
Lippire plays with and gently makes fun of these ideas.
Literally embedded in the heart of Lippire’s mixed
media works—which she constructs out of domestic
materials—is a squeaky toy.
Usually the playthings of pets and children, squeaky
toys scratch a very particular itch. Whether dogs conceptualize
that they are playing a predator’s game or are just
instinct-bound to run after their squishy, noisy ball,
subdue it and bite it for a good 30 seconds or more, all
the while listening to the toy cry its breath away in
the dog’s grasp, we understand that this is an irresistible
game—at least for a while, until we tire of it—that
is neurologically or biologically hardwired in both us
and them. Is it for the same reason that infants and toddlers
involuntarily turn their heads at the sound of one of
these toys, or is it just the sound, so sharp and unexpected?
Lippire’s work draws our touch in a way that is
also irresistible. Lippire has stuffed squeakers between
the surfaces of her work and the backing, strategically
placing them where our hands instinctively go. Sigmond
on a Yellow Field, part oilcloth collage, part gouache
painting, depicts a domestic cat. Sigmond stretches out,
all soft, exposed belly and fur, against collaged oilcloth
that could be a really beautiful carpet—or your
grandmother’s tablecloth. The piece appeals to desires
for a soft cuddly pet and the reassurance of a warm hearth.
Sigmond’s squeaker is embedded beneath his belly,
trading on our impulse to touch this ersatz kitty. For
In Her Pride and Joy, a 1950s style illustration that
looks a bit like Dale Evans and Trigger, the squeaker
is embedded behind the woman’s breasts, as if it
were a 1950s-era bra. Activating the squeaker exacts a
naughty thrill that contrasts with the wholesome retro
image.
One work, Hercules with the Pelt of a Lion—a sculptural
piece worthy of Studio Ghibli; think, The Cat Returns—does
not have a squeaker. This newspaper-gray, 3-foot-tall
papier-mâché cat appears to have stepped
out his skin. Holding the pelt like a prior incarnation,
this cat in search of a new self, stands like a sentinel
in the window, appraising passersby, as if trying to find
a right new skin to step into.
The other half of “Luxurious Captivity” casts
an unsettling spell. Acrylic ink drawings from Wardell
articulate the horror film aspect of mythology and archetypal
systems. In The Meeting with the Goddess, a figure fixes
us with a frightening gaze. It represents an encounter
that could end well or end badly. There is a sense of
ambiguity and the suspension of time.
“Luxurious Captivity” takes us into the muddy
mix of wish fulfillment and dreamscape, but in opposite
directions. Lippire engages playful ideas about what constitutes
artistic experience. Her interactive works are full of
humorous, quirky observations. Hers is a delightful nightmare
alley, where you might wake with a dog, tearing into your
painting, trying to kill the squeaker inside it. Wardell
wakens the dread of dreams that may turn horribly wrong.
“Luxurious Captivity” by Kristi Lippire and
Matt Wardell at Bunny Gunner Gallery, 266 W. 2nd St.,
Pomona, (909) 868-2808; www.bunnygunner.com. Opens Sat,
May 8. Thru June 8. Last gallery reception May 29, 6-9PM.
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