Parallel parking: what a nightmare. That was not a good sign, and neither was the labyrinth of a hallway that I sniffed my way through after ascending to the fifth floor of this enormous brick windowed building, like a mouse in search of the cheese. An overly enthusiastic man led me directly to Kate Wilson's exhibit. What I found was much more than I ever would have imagined.
Who knew that oil UFO's and decapitated child's toys could deliver intense messages about society and culture to the average student? I didn't, but to see if I could prove myself wrong, I went to the Buffalo Arts Studio at the Tri-Main Center on Main Street, on a mission to view the exhibits "Botanical Sci-fi" by Kate Wilson, a Toronto-based artist, and "Innards" by Billie Grace Lynn, a native of Niagara Falls. Their artwork is currently on exhibit through Nov. 2, and the Center is only a short drive from South Campus, depending on how many stoplights taunt you on your way there.
White walls topped with little round white lights illuminated an impressive collection of Wilson's artwork including: six framed works using oil or ink on Mylar; 49 unframed works using oil or ink on mylar with digital imagery; seven works using ink on paper; 27 works using ink on vellum or mylar with some digital imagery; and three fairly large works, possibly a series using oil on Mylar, that depict a similar woman in each.
Nervously studying each in hopes of not missing important details, I paced along the perimeter atop a cement floor that looked like an old parking garage. Most of Wilson's work was 8 by 10 inches in size and done in a very sketchy, sweeping brushstroke style. Some were made to look blurry, and generally, bright colored paint was used instead of her highly contrasted ink works.
Mystifying eyes peered back at me from behind oddly colored hair that meshed well with the exaggerated proportion of most of the faces. Other than neckless heads, horned people, and women with 50s style hairdos and halos, Wilson often incorporated imaginary cities, UFOs, large plants that reminded me of Seymour from "Little Shop of Horrors" and globular shapes.
Still, some of her work was abstract in nature and looked as if the paint formed swirling tornadoes or designs like those found in the early 1990s on the Trapper Keeper. A work in which a gigantic bird's claws descend upon a city reminded me only of Hitchcock, and honestly some of the subject matter freaked me out a little bit.
I did have a favorite of Wilson's: a woman's portrait, adorned with golden brown hair, overlooking a carnival scene on the water. The emphasis was placed on the woman, whose body hovered above the scene, larger in proportion and gave the impression of being a heavenly goddess or an earthly goddess recalling a bittersweet memory. I would have purchased the piece myself if the price tag was not set at $785 ?Ae_ not to say it wasn't worth the cost, but I doubt my $2 "suggested donation" would have covered it.
Billie Grace Lynn's exhibit radiated an electric feeling. The room was alive, scattered with eight interactive tree-like structures whose branches held numerous partial plastic dolls, perched animals with moveable parts, faceless characters, angry, dangling wires and square boxes that administered repetitive statements to any listener.
It was chaos, it was overwhelming, and like an unrestrained, curious child, I couldn't help myself from pushing all the buttons simultaneously. Various noises coincided with waning songs and animal sounds. Babies cried obnoxiously, and it became a game for me to guess which cartoon voice the unmarked boxes played. Somehow I deciphered Eeyore's depressed tone, sprightly Steve from "Blue's Clues" (thanks to my nieces), the Teletubbies, Tickle Me Elmo, Simba and the three-eyed green alien from "Toy Story."
Parrots, monkeys, pigs and ducks joined in the orchestrated pandemonium. As I backed away from each sculpture, the echoes were magnified by the emptiness of the room. The sensation was eerie. The highlight of Lynn's exhibit made me laugh out loud when a skeletal lizard turned its head to me and burped.
Some of the objects moved and talked on their own. The common phrase of the toys was "You're my very best friend." Accompanied by the incessant "Macarena," and the accentuated counting and learning games, it was really creepy, to say the least.
Both exhibits share in the theme of pop culture as it stands today, and what we as a society find important and interesting. Lynn's work demonstrated the way that our society raises its children is less personal and more mechanical today than it was in the past. Both exhibits remind us to think more like we did when we were children, to explore what is unknown, to believe in things like aliens and all we consider impossible, and to focus more on what inspires us than what is boring and practical.
These exhibits also prevent viewers from thoughtlessly accepting a piece of artwork and continuing to walk. Instead, we begin to relate, ponder and involve ourselves with what Wilson and Lynn show to us, and judge from there.
Who needs to visit Area 51, watch "Roswell" reruns or baby-sit someone else's rugrats at Toys R Us, when we have the artwork of Kate Wilson and Billie Grace Lynn to entertain us and make us think? To see this futuristic conglomeration of enticing artwork, the trip proved a more than worthwhile endeavor.
