By Chris Joseph
By Michael E. Miller
By Kyle Swenson
By David Villano
By Kyle Swenson
By John Thomason
By Michele Eve
When the Art and Culture Center of Hollywood lost its in-house curator, Samantha Salzinger, last year she took up teaching at Florida Atlantic University the loss was not just the institution's but that of the Broward County art scene as well. Salzinger had brought much-needed vision and vitality to the museum, which teetered on the verge of becoming marginal. Under her guidance, it served such stimulating fare as "Fat Painting" and launched a juried biennial that, while uneven, continues to stir things up.
And so it was with great anticipation that I approached "Sugar and Spice and Everything Nice," the center's current exhibition, for which Salzinger serves as guest curator. I really, really wanted to like the show. This time out, however, the center's former star promises more than she delivers.
The exhibition, according to Salzinger's introduction, "examines the identity of the contemporary woman" by way of "female artists using the medium of photography to investigate the notion of what it means for a woman in a post-feminist society to be a stay-at-home mom, a beauty queen, or compete in 'man's' work." But the show includes only three photographers whose collective take on what might be termed "third-wave feminism" (I'm stealing the designation from the current issue of ARTnews) mostly skitters across the surfaces of the subject.
Not quite half of the center's big main gallery is devoted to half a dozen large color prints in a series called This Stage of Motherhood, by Gail Albert-Halaban, a New York-based artist preoccupied with Salzinger's "stay-at-home mom." In one image, a young girl is perched atop a dining room table; a young boy of roughly the same age, in what appears to be a pink tutu, sits at the same table while a woman (presumably the mother) looks on in the background.
Another shot features a pair of women who may or may not be mother and grown daughter they're both pretty, youthful-looking blonds intently watching something we can't see in a kitchen/dining room. In the background are brown-paper lunch bags labeled with male names, as in those of the young boys we see elsewhere in the photo.
Most of the other images are so similarly generic that almost anything could be read into them. Only one photograph has much resonance on its own: a shot of a Caucasian woman eating while, in the background, a woman who looks to be Hispanic tends to the diner's baby.
Albert-Halaban's work is in sharp focus, with crisp, saturated colors, in dramatic contrast to the eight pieces that make up Rachel Papo's Serial #381713. Papo, an Israeli who now lives in Brooklyn, takes a more journalistic approach in her shots of young women fulfilling their mandatory stints in the Israeli army.
Papo seems less concerned with focal clarity to the detriment of her work, I think than with capturing on-the-fly images. Those images, however, come across as arbitrary, random: an armed young woman with a Coke and a pack of cigarettes, another on a street drinking a beer, a cluster of half a dozen soldiers standing at a lunch counter. As illustrations for, say, a magazine article, these photos might pack some punch. Here, they don't add up to much of a statement.
Around the corner, in the center's three smaller galleries, "Sugar and Spice" finally starts to pay off with the work of Colby Katz. (Full disclosure: Katz is the staff photographer for this newspaper. I have met her once.) For her Darling Divas series, Katz draws on her years of chronicling the rarefied world of beauty pageants for young girls as in the world inhabited by Jon-Benet Ramsey before her untimely death.
Perhaps Katz has an edge over the other two photographers in this exhibition. Her images don't really require anything beyond themselves to put forth a point of view. I suppose it would be possible to look at the show's grouping of a dozen of Katz's portraits of wannabe divas and think "How nice!" But I suspect the more common reaction would be along the lines of "How revolting!"
Katz shoots her young subjects not exactly in close-up and not exactly from a distance. She settles, instead, on a midrange perspective that yields distinct advantages. We get close enough to see how horrifically made-up and coifed these children are, and we're at enough of a remove to appreciate how their little gowns and bathing suits sexualize them far beyond their years. (A few of the girls look vaguely uncomfortable, grimacing rather than really smiling.)
There's nothing else in the show to equal this series, but the long, narrow gallery also features a handful of larger, matted and framed photos under glass, all of which contribute to the overall impact of Katz's installation. In one, a little girl in an Asian-looking sheath, a crown, and flip-flops stands in front of a love seat, wearing her crown and embracing a trophy that's almost twice as tall as she is. In another, a slightly older girl, also crowned and gowned, sits on a bed holding a pug puppy.
In some of the most compelling images in the show, Katz presents a couple of shots that speak volumes. In the first, a little aspiring beauty queen is perched between two morbidly obese women from the look of them, mother and grandmother who are kissing her but also smothering her with affection. You get the distinct impression that suffocating, rather than supportive, is the word that applies.