SPECTRUM OF ART PRODUCTION
From minimalism to maximalism, a new conceptualism
AT ONE END of current art production reigns a new minimalism, in which the art object is stripped to its bare bones, and a new conceptualism, in which the nature of art is held up to scrutiny. But the spectrum of contemporary art is broad and inclusive, and at the other end there prevails a maximalism, in which every available surface of the art object is covered as if the life of the artist depends upon its elaboration.
There are currently two shows in the Grant Avenue gallery district of artists whose works exhibit such a horror vacui, but once you get beyond the excess visual information they present, their work is about very different things.
Bruce Burris' new paintings at the Braunstein/Quay Gallery are heavily patterned, riotously colored and jam-packed with words and imagery. His pointillist technique and all-over composition are reminiscent of Australian aboriginal painting. His imagery derives from American folk art; some of it is specifically reminiscent of the Rev. Howard Finster. In his painting, Burris feels free to use whatever he needs from whatever source. He sees the images of death's heads from Mexican Day of the Dead celebrations. And he appropriates pop culture's labels and logos, which become part of his visual stew. The overall feeling is neo-psychedeic.
But Burris' theme is not warmed-over "peace-love, man" nostalgia. Burris worked for a while with homeless and abused children in the Tenderloin, and his visually joyous and upbeat paintings bear witness to the degradation of life after nearly 10 years of Reagan-Bush for those without the resources to resist its mean and selfish social Darwinism. A thousand points of light, indeed.
BURRIS' paintings are filled with words. which are so tightly interwoven into the fabric of the painting that at first they are hard to read. The words are part of the strong abstract rhythms that make Burris' paintings so attractive. But when you decipher them, they are the testimony of the hurt and the broken. One anonymous voice pleads, "Will You Please Love Us All." Another laconically reports, "l'm 12 and cold." The artist himself doubles as reporter. "She is 11, raped, and her glasses broken," Burris is aware of the disjunction between his protest and his appearance in the elite world of the art gallery. In one painting on mirror from 1987, he writes, "You Can Buy This Picture or Feed a Hungry Tenderloin Family for 2 Months." If it were only so simple.