Reviews

Saturday, April 17, 1999/Enterprise-Record

A unique way to
document family history

Reprinted with permission from The Enterprise-Record

By Stephanie Bird

Art Critic

    The 1078 Gallery often grabs me with its wide variety of art shows featuring artists near and far, but its current show's description intrigued me more than usual.
    Bay Area artist Ricardo Gil came to Chico to show a series of black and white photographs focusing on the past eight years of his life. Chronicled are himself, his wife, Meg, and their now seven year old daughter, Lily.
    What's the twist? Gil and Meg are dwarfs raising a daughter who is already their height. And Gil's desire to record their familial development for their average-height daughter translates into an unique art show giving new perspective to the rest of us, including me, in my 5'10" world.
    When I first read about the show, I had all sorts of ideas about the subject matter. Living in a time of extreme-this and shocking-that, shows like "Guinness Book of World Records" and Jim Rose's group of traveling "freaks" attract, awe,and exploit people of all shapes and sizes as well as their viewers while making good money. So with a little pessimism in my blood, I wondered if Gil's show would be more about what my white-bread, middle class, above-average height upbringing usually wanted to avoid unless it was something I could pay to see.
    On the way into the gallery, my partner and I debated as to whether the photos would be hung lower than usual to reflect the original angle of perspective they were shot at, or higher, to make us crane and be required to see what it feels like. In actuality, the photos were hung low, but according to Gil, not out of any desire to force the public to bend a little. When I asked him about it, he explained that they were hung that way so that he could view them and because he's a little tired of seeing work too high up on the wall. Gil, Meg and Lily were all present at the opening, interacting with all while Gil occasionally took photos of those in attendance.
    Meanwhile, I turned to inspect the show. A collection of 24 prints ringed the gallery, ranging in dates from 1991 to '99. The images ran from simple to complex, often requiring a title to explain the subject. Most contained shots of Meg, with or with out Lily, and a few self-portraits of Gil ran from humorous to scientific.
    For the most part, I enjoyed his prints for their texture and every day sort of subject matter. Particular favorites include "Nola and Bugs," taken in '98 with Meg and Lily having breakfast with Lily's foreground position giving her the overwhelming appearance of being double Meg's size. Life-as-usual is emphasized with Meg looking like she just woke up, cartoon character plastic mugs capturing the title of the photo, and an asthma inhaler, slipping out of the frame. Also taken in '98, "A Game of Frisbee" has Meg and Lily out in a park with Lily seemingly towering over Meg and people well beyond them, miniaturized to tiny specks.
    Others, such as "Meg's Braids" and "Meg at Five Months," both taken in '91 show nudes of Meg while pregnant in a touching and very personal light. "Meg's Dance," '95, "Hands in their Pockets," '94, and "Holiday Dinner," '97, all show images of Meg interacting with the cropped-off torsos of average-height friends and give a feel for what it's like to see the world at waist level.
    Gil's self-portraits show an extremely personal view of him- self as well. Ranging from the startled-eyed "Self Portrait with Beard,'' '96, to a humorous "A Game of Golf," '93, with Gil being as tall as his opponent's driver, his self-consciousness is extraordinarily evident. Two scientifically arranged and titled nude self-portraits, part of a series taken to chronicle bodily changes over time, give intensely close views of the physicality of Disproportionate Dwarfism, while relating similarities to all aging human bodies.
    When I talked with Gil, I was enduring a case of laryngitis and he put me at ease by letting me know it was OK for me to bend down to talk with him. Kneeling on the floor, I found we were the same height and felt less a clunky tall girl and more like a friend. Leaning forward on his walking cane, he discussed the interest and encouragement his display yielded him in Berkeley and confessed his inability to know his young daughter's feelings about the shows. His openness and apparent lack of self-derision appealed to me and assured me that this wasn't meant to be a shocking display, but a sensitive account. I chided myself for my pessimism.
    This show runs through April 30. It just might change the way you choose to document your family.

 


Ricardo L. Gil, Seiko Tachibana and David Wolf at the Berkeley Art Center

ARTWEEK   April, 1999
Reprinted with permission from Artweek

By Alicia Miller

The recent Member’s Showcase exhibition at the Berkeley Art Center brings together the work of three rather visually disparate artists, Ricardo L. Gil, Seiko Tachibana and David Wolf. Sharing the gallery space, they play off each other in unusual ways, and the more time one spends with the work, the more a certain sense of shared concerns emerges between them. In the end, the work seems surprisingly more interrelated than might be anticipated from the stylistic variation first apprehended.

What begins to emerge is an interest in the subtle rhythms of life and its experiences, played out in vastly different ways by each artist. Gil explores it through a careful examination of day-to-day movements through his life. Gil is a dwarf, as is his wife, and they are raising an average-sized daughter. His images document with a frank, tender eye his perspective of the world through which he passes, and assess both its promise and difficulties. His photographs are deeply intimate, filled with the banal details of life and tempered by an engrossing self-examination as Gil, sometimes quite literally, measures himself against a larger world. Most wonderful are his recent nude self-portraits, which resemble John Coplans’s appraisals of the malleable geographies of the body and the range of its possibilities.

Wolf also examines the passage of the everyday in his work exploring fragmentary moments in relationship to a continuous whole. This is particularly clear in a piece such as Sundial, for which two circular configurations of images are laid on the wall, one inside the other. The outer circle follows the passage of shadows across a surface, marking time through the movement of light. The inner images show people passing through a single space, their appearance activating an otherwise empty place. These varying image fragments play off one another in a rhythmic counterpoint, creating a kind of filmic discontinuity which stops and starts as one moves between them.

This variation on a theme is picked up again in two piece entitled End/Bird Suite I and Suite II. Here, Wolf uses a series of Polaroid images of buildings, trees, street signs and sidewalks in differing sequences, as if to explore what possibilities might arise from each configuration. The pieces are like some unsolvable rebus, their components constantly rearranged in search of a meaning which can never be completely pinned down.

This interest in passage and possibility is found again in Tachibana’s delicately beautiful installation Michi (Life/Road), which dominates the gallery space. A large scroll hung from the ceiling runs down the wall and onto the floor. Surrounding it are at least a dozen smaller scrolls, each floated from the ceiling and anchored by small stones alluding the road. The central scroll is marked by a grid of simple horizontal strokes, seemingly endless in their variation, that can be read as a chronicle of the implicit journey the road represents. The surrounding scrolls—whose surfaces are also gridded with lines and dots, and marked over by more forceful gestural black strokes—offer a detailed explication on a theme. Tachibana is similarly interested in the relation of the fragment to the continuous whole and how this speaks to us about our life experience, though her expressive methods are clearly different from Wolf’s. Gil, too, uses his single images to speak about the larger flow of his life. It is this common interest which resonates between these disparate bodies of work, and ultimately unifies them.