REVIEW
Conflict in Collaboration
The Hoffman Gallery's current show demonstrates how an artistic collaboration reveals the best of both artists.

BY KATE BONANSINGA
243-2122 EXT. 313

The CoOperators
Hoffman Gallery, Oregon College of Art and Craft
8245 SW Barnes Road, 297-5544
Ends Aug. 30

Other collaborative shows this summer include Joe Adams and Brian Kershisnik's collaborative paintings at Froelick Adelhart Gallery (817 SW 2nd Ave., 222-1142; opens Aug. 4) and Water and Plastic, for which artist Nan B. Curtis and writer Brian Hamilton chose 10 visual artists and 10 writers to pair up and collaborate on a piece about either water or plastic (Quartersaw Gallery, 528 NW 12th Ave., 223-2264; ends Aug. 2).

 

The Old Testament Book of Job, which Victor Hugo called "the greatest masterpiece of the human mind," tells how the moral and respected Job patiently endured the loss of his riches, his servants, his family and his health. Why did such awful stuff happen to such a good guy? Carl Jung, the eminent Swiss psychologist, tackled this question in Answer to Job and concluded, as did Job before him, that God is not always just and moral; good naturally comes with evil. "I shall answer injustice with injustice," Jung wrote; "there are psychic truths which can neither be explained nor proven nor contested in any physical way."

Answer to Job inspired Kristin Broten and Morgan Walker, one of 12 pairs of artists included in The CoOperators, currently on view at the Hoffman Gallery, to create a puppet stage packed with Jung's cast of characters: Barbie dolls posing as Job's daughters, plastic animals as his livestock, a handmade YWYH (the name of God in ancient Hebrew). There are protagonists from other cultures' moral teachings, as well, including a few Greek gods and goddesses. "The Middle East" is scripted in glitter on a banner at the top of this 4-foot-tall sculpture, referring not only to Job's home, but also to an area of contemporary religious and political conflict.

Paul Arensmeyer, who curated The CoOperators, paired 36 artists into 18 teams. Most of these artists had never collaborated with anyone before; none had worked with the artist Arensmeyer chose for him or her. Six couples resigned from exhibiting, four of them because they couldn't work together. "I've heard stories of egos clashing, media not mixing and ideas being argued," Arensmeyer said.

Conflict is implied in many of the pieces, including Broten and Walker's. Marty Houston and Ovid Uman, for example, created a miniature boxing ring in one corner of the gallery. The viewer enters the ring and sits on a stool in the corner, which in turn lifts a black, fabric shroud, situated across the ring like an opponent. This reveals a small black-and-white television playing a looped video of a boxing match between the two artists, from their preparation to the match's completion. Before entering the ring, Houston kneels and crosses himself, while Uman conducts a tea ceremony in an insinuation of cultural difference.

Laurie Austin and Stephanie Speight's use of materials makes a less specific reference to the disparate. Speight's stitched, ivory paper "curtain," long, narrow and light, seems to be sliding through Austin's heavy, U-shaped metal "bolt." Does this bolt restrict or stabilize its airier half? Speight and Austin combine diametric media; Laurie Danial and Sandy Sampson combine their diametrically opposed painting styles. They offer a new twist on "Exquisite Corpse," the surrealist parlor game of collaborative figure drawings on paper. Traditionally, one participant draws the figure's head and folds the paper before passing it to the next participant, who cannot see the head before rendering the torso and, once again, folding the paper for the subsequent artist, who will draw the legs, and so on. None of the artists takes authorship or responsibility. Danial and Sampson divided two figurative images into several portions, independently painting their chosen sections in their respective, characteristic styles. Each artist is willing to incorporate her painting into that of the other.

This type of confidence and trust is undoubtedly necessary to the success of artistic collaborations. In addition to exhibitions such as The CoOperators, in which a curator asks artists to work together, there are a few self-initiated artist "teams" who exhibit in Portland. Joe Biel and Richard Kraft ("Yellowman Speaks," WW, July 1, 1998) have received national attention for their collaborative installations; Brian Kershisnik recently asked Joe Adams (both are from Utah) to collaborate on a body of paintings. Jennifer Hoover and Chris Kelly, who created a painting on a room divider screen for The CoOperators, plan to continue to work together and to exhibit one or two new screens at an upcoming exhibition at the Mark Woolley Gallery.

There is no scarcity of historical examples of group artistic production. The 17th-century Flemish Baroque painter Peter Paul Rubens used an atelier of apprentices to execute his grand altar pieces and secular narratives, and members of Andy Warhol's Factory participated in making his silkscreens and films. But there was typically one main decision maker and one name on the final product. Twentieth-century exceptions in which two creators play roles of equal importance include Gilbert and George, Britons whose living sculptures might be interpreted as performance, and the twins Mike and Doug Starn. Perhaps contemporary Pacific Northwest artists are noting their examples.

Part of taking note will be weathering the conflict, suppressing the ego, discussing and resolving problems--all inevitable when working with a partner. In the best of circumstances, the results will reveal the best of both artists, such as the sculpture by M.K. Guth and Brian Elliott in The CoOperators. And through all the give and take, the artists may learn the patience of Job.

 

originally published July 29, 1998