Capitalism Strikes Again!

Curator's final dba256 show colors consumerism with an artistic eye-if only her gallery had suffered the same fate
By: Stacy Davies

There seem to be two modes of thinking when it comes to creating our American culture-quest for commerce and quest for artistic expression, and they often butt heads. Some people, for example, see an antiquated building and think, "tear it down and build one that's slicker and brighter, and we can quadruple the rent." That's the business head. The artistic head says instead, "the architecture and history of that structure are amazing, let's refurbished it." Head butt.

In media, it's always the sales department warring with the editorial side (see the results in newscasts that run a day-long story on Boy Scouts who've perished, exploiting the delicate and tragic subject matter merely to rope in viewers), and even in the place where creative hands should take the reins-the art gallery business itself-we can find the business side of the space advocating more consumerism (wanting more bro cheesecake? Or perhaps, some large screen TVs so you don't miss a minute of that boy scout story?) and the artsy side of the space advocating more daring and inspiring acquisitions.

But there's little need for hypotheticals on that last note-the dba256 gallery and wine bar is indeed, it seems, shucking its visionary artistic quest for one of drinking/partying commerce, causing former co-owner and gallery director Andi Campagnone to quickly beat a path to the neighboring dA Center where she'll assume the senior curator position. It's fitting, then, that Campagnone's final show, American Lifescape, arrives as the gallery goes under the lobotomy knife-for within the exhibit lies the elemental evidence of the right brain/left brain struggle.

As opposed to merely an American landscape-which might offer only breathtaking natural beauty or the varied faces of humanity-a lifescape is something more. The term itself requires the direct participation of man with the environment, and in our commerce-laden land, that means not only what we build, but even where we build it.

This exhibit focuses mostly on photographs of what we've built, finding the beauty in structures that never included the concept during the drafting process. Ed Freeman's digitally manipulated stills of commercial iconography such as the monument-like "Pizza Hut" shack and groves of Public Storage "Storage Units" and R. Dean Larson's series of surreal dwellings show us objective views of where we live and eat-pulling the images out of their consumerism space and illuminating them as something much more expressive. Amy Bystedt's "White Picket Fence" couplet and Sally Egan's "American Landscape" camp our lifescape up a bit, depicting the American nuclear family relaxing on Astroturf in front of a mountain range, and having a holiday barbecue in a land-fill (with a little girl wearing a protective cone face mask), respectively.

Taking us back to the origins of structure, Doug McCulloh's "Dream Street" series of gelatin silverprints shows the construction of a neighborhood that the photographer himself was allowed to name after winning a contest. Bright shots of two-by-fours being laid and moody silhouetted workers digging and sweeping are broken up with a jarring shot of cinder block graffiti extolling "white pride"-an unnerving aspect of suburbia and American claim-staking.

Stijn & Marie's "Santa Monica" gated apartment complex focuses on the artistic lines of commerce-gates protecting, stairs enabling, a square pool and lounge chairs that promote luxuries, all erected in front of telephone polls and wires of communication and the framed windows of an office building that churns out capitalism. San Khalsa's 30-shot series of water stores is a commercial riot (with names such as "The Water Wagon," "Water World II," "Water Boy," and so on), turning pure commerce into fascinating artistic observation. In a similar yet divergent vein, Steven Poster's moody "Mt. Rushmore" and "Guitar Pool" resonate a filmic quality that ooze backstory, and are prime exhibits of man's need to carve his gods into his surroundings.

Moving into recreational realms, Corina Gamma's exceptional c-prints of the loops and plunges of death-defying roller coasters makes plain the intrinsic beauty of some of our man-made cliffs and mountains, with one image of a giant roller loop and a "No U Turn" sign, in particular, revealing how commerce imitates commerce. Embracing our cultural trends even further, Thomas McGovern's series of chromogenic prints of hot rods takes an unconventional look at the craze, focusing on the passengers as opposed to the fine machinery; images of cars filled with families -proud fathers with little girls and boys gleefully hanging out of windows-shows a direct connection of our emotional happiness to the flash and thrill of magnificently welded steel.

Ultimately, David Wade and Amy Maloof take the concept all to an essential conclusion: actually making art out of commerce. Maloof's "New Wave Trash," an enlarged photo on wood of a colorful smashed Styrofoam cup, and Wade's four-foot conversion of an orange reflective construction sign into a giant wallflower in "Flora Nova" indeed add the final comment to this show-and this struggle. Like our bisected gray matter, it's only when art and commerce work together that we achieve an economically viable and culturally superior society. Otherwise, we starve in beauty or binge in shadow-and that's when Nero dusts off his fiddle.

American Lifescape at dba256 Gallery, 256 S. Main St., Pomona, (909) 623-7600; www.dba256.com. Exhibit running through September 6