HOT

I like it HOT, 'cause baby, it's COLD outside. When you're hot, you're hot. And The Arts Upstairs is hot central. Hot to trot. Hot pants! Get yer Red hots, Hottentot. Hot off the press. Hot diggety dog! Diablo! FarenHOT 451! So pull on your asbestos long johns and sweat with me in this frigid February heat wave...

 

Yakira Gonzalez instigates the HOT inauguration of a new sister gallery section of TAU, CUBARTE!

Cuban artists are now represented in our gallery. It's International!

This cock fight is "Untitled".

 

A second Cubarte artist, Arie Izquierdo presents an enigmatic "Y Pas La Olla".

Rougly translated it means "and PAS the Pan"

Could it be a reference to Public Affairs Section (PAS), Havana?


(The Public Affairs Section manages press, information and programming for the U.S. Interests Section (USINT) in Havana, Cuba. )

Or is it just two jitterbugging bugs?

 

Dakota Lane goes one step further with "Peep Show". As I stared through the cellophane window, I could almost imagine my feet sticking to the tacky floor as the scent of disinfectant wafts around in the musty air of a 42nd street cubicle before Giuliani Disneyfied Times Square. Of course, there is a diaspora of peep shows spread all over midtown now, just none next door to the Disney store.

In this curious role reversal, it seems like we are peeking at the peekers... who resemble dry cattle skulls.

 

 

Jud Eden Grabbed my attention with "PCH".

Is this a reference to the Pacific Coast Highway?

Maybe.

What is his fascination with newspapers covers from the Seattle Stranger?

Maybe Brian Powers will take a hint and jazz up covers of the Phoenicia Times.

John Jackson is part of a burgeoning art movement at TAU - artists who take chunks of metal objects and transform them by the cauldron of wit into something entirely new.

 

"Sparky" has an oil torch for a head and double Delco spark plugs for eyes. His lungs are a tank of compressed air. Is this fireman the type who sets fires just so he can put them out?

 

Rees Shad invites us to a family "Reunion".

Each velvet lined drawer contains a miniature television screen showing interviews with folks that might be someone's family if not his.

One gentleman in there claims to have made love to his wife over 17,000 times. That's pretty hot.

Amy Albert paints in a pleasurably playful way that reminds me of Wayne Thiebaud, tell me if I'm wrong (see below.)

Also tell me if drawing comparisons to other famous artists is helpful or just plain obnoxious!

"Early Summer" has passion pinkness, orange juiciness, watery wetness, pan-chromatic shadows and glossy glassy surfaces galore.

 

Ian Laughlin shares with us the loopy aluminum longings of his "Crazy Heart".

 

This free form floater is fun to twirl and occupies the biomorphic borderline between Frank Stella and the burgeoning scrap metal movement I mentioned earlier.

..

 

More metal monkeyshines! Kevin Green (L) welded up a doozy of a "Daisy", and John Jackson (R) is back with a gestural tour de force, "The Farmer"... complete with Haiku. Green's akimbo feminine ferrous fallopian fantasies compliment the slope shoulder wheelbarrow pushin' position and farmer's pitchfork phallus. Very lively. Definitely not pushin' up daisies.

"We've Come a Long Way, Baby!" From Elizabethan whalebone corsets that prevented breathing altogether, to these 50's era elastic fantastic girdles that allowed about 50% of normal respiration, and now, self adhering silicone strapless gel bras with nipple concealers that let you inhale. I hope the next round of bra burnings will not release too much toxic material into the atmosphere.

Thanks to Barbara Patton for this Elmer's Glue glossy undergarment grab-bag of uplifting rose-pink retro nostalgia.

 

Ever been to "Kaaterskill" falls? At the very top is a lookout and overhung sheer 300 foot drop that invokes Edgar Allen Poe's Imp of the perverse. Jump! Jump!

Many names are carved in the rocks up there that go back to the early 1800's. Some of those folks might have jumped.

 

Seen from below, Deborah Joyce captures the overwhelming craggy cliffs in hot Guilden's Diablo mustardy strokes.

 

 

 

 

I marvel at Marvella's marvelous montage, mysteriously titled "Untitled."

Don't you just hate that?

Here's just a few titles I came up with:

"Blue Bonnet and the Gold Bugs"

"Mrs. Purple Finch Adopts"

"I'm Home, Honey Bee!"

"Rock-A-Bye Baby in the Tree Top"

 

Beautiful nontheless.

 

 

 

 

 

"Hotel de la Vie" specializes in service with a sneer.

I imagine those bussboys and bellboys and Maitre D's loitering about with upturned palms expecting tips.

The boney fellow perhaps waited too long to be served dinner one too many times. That's what you get for stiffing the staff. C'est la Vie!

Fromage! Mierde! Sacre Bleu! Mon Dieu!

Bronson Eden's bluebird of hippieness has landed, however, so I give this establishment one more star than the Grotesquely Elongated Emerson Plaza Shopping Tunnel on route 28.

 

 

 

A bit down the road you will see the inspiration for Faye Storm's "Rt. 28 Diner Horses."

 

 

 

"Man Made Swamp" by Clare Cassor is cunningly crafted from threads and tiny bits of textiles.

The delicate detailed 3D surface can only be truly appreciated up close in person so go to the gallery and see it for yourself.

 

 

"Mrs. Harker Has a Problem" sounds like something heard in the psychiatrist's office, "You see, doc, A friend of mine has this problem..."

Richard Treitner definitely does not have a problem.

The magic Mayan mushroom motif must mean he studied a lot of Central American archaelogy.

Yeah, I bet that's it.

Once again, Lenny Kislin makes me stand dumbfounded agog in amazement at his cleverness, his craftsmanship, his seemingly endless collection of outsider arcania, and the instant accessibility of "Pearls Before Swine."

 

 

Well I gotta go throw a coulple more logs on the stove. We had 5 below zero last night. Keep the home fires burning HOT!

See you at the next opening.

 
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