A R T L E T T E R
The Timely Magazine of Art
#35 | <!>previous/ next>!> Artletter index | August 15, 1996 |
Balloon Modernism: Paperboy, corner of Studemont and I-10 A rectilinear monument in welded steel, incongruously painted with blue and yellow balloons on the West side of Studemont overlooking the White Oak Bayou. The huge bulky concrete base suggests that this was once a very tall billboard post which was cut off and remade into a bland modernist sculpture. For years the piece was was painted white, conforming to one's expectations of modern art, until an unknown genius in late 1994 postmodernized the piece by painting it with a pattern of floating, illusionistic balloons. The bulbous balloons form a loose pattern of polka dots in sharp contrast to the severe geometry of the original steel form. Both form and painting are uninspired; it is the combination of the two which breaks new conceptual ground. This startling clash of styles seems unintentional, the piece has a straightforward function as a sign advertising the balloons for sale at the paperboy store. The painter shows "a fine disregard" for the niceties of modernist sculpture, creating a stimulatingly odd blend of fine art and commercial signage. The piece innocently crosses boundaries between art and life few contemporary artist would dare to transgress. The piece raches its height at Christmastime, when the paperboy management wraps it in multicolored lights, as if it were some cubist Christmas tree.-B.D. Psycho Pueblo: Castle Dental Center, 2120 West Loop North A dental office in an old Mexican restaurant by the freeway. Three different aesthetic layers are abruptly superimposed on one another with a refreshingly bizarre unconcern for integrity of style. Layer one is pure function: a cement, steel and sheet metal shed serves as the basic structure. Overlaid on this structure, layer two is simulated Olde Mexico: saltillo tile floors, terra cotta roof tiles; interior partitions of heavily stucco-textured drywall form a series of low arches and walls, subdividing the completely unarticulated steel box into a series of casual semi-open spaces suitable for semi-private dining. Niches holding a variety of Mexican knick-nacks, oversized potted palms and rustic southwestern furniture complete this familiar idiom. So far, so good. Now here's where it gets weird: when the building was converted from a restaurant into a dental office, the new proprietors didn't change the decor or the layout, opting to cheerfully (and cheaply) overlay a third aesthetic, "the dental office", onto the existing conglomerate, creating a dental office in a mexican hacienda in a steel box by the freeway! The rigid heirarchy of public waiting room vs. private examination room is broken down into something more closely resembling a hair salon than a medical facility (perhaps a conscious effect, given Castle's emphasis on cosmetic dentistry). In searching for a receptionist, one wanders through the different dining areas, past people in dental chairs, some being worked on, some waiting. Enameled beige and stainless dental equipment sits incongruously in what still appears to be a dining room. A box of latex gloves sits in a niche next to a folky terra cotta figurine. A "must see" for twenty-first century interior designers.-B.D. San Jacinto Monument In the mddle of nowhere, the San Jacinto monument makes an ironic contrast with the forest of industrial smokestacks and cracking towers with which it shares the swampy plain at the edge of the ship channel. Each is a monument to a different idea of Texas. The monument is best viewed from a distance: the embarassing politically incorrect text and run of the mill depression-era historical reliefs which adorn the lower part of the tower fade from view. With its severe, quasi-classical styling, sci-fi star, and crumbly shell-riddled limestone the lonely, incongrous monument seems like a leftover from the lost continent of Atlantis.-B.D. Artletter is available the 1st and 15th of every month at Brazos Bookstore, Lawndale, Glassell School, Inman Gallery, Menil Store, CAM Store, Brazil Cafe, MFA bookstore, and Diverseworks. Mail subscriptions $15/year. Address letters to: Bill Davenport, 801 Tulane St., Houston TX 77007