DAN'S PAPERS, June 18, 2010 Page 70 www.danshamptons.com
Arts & Entertainment
Art Commentary by Marion Wolberg Weiss
Alan Shields at The Drawing Room Even though there’s been a lot written about artist Alan Shields through the years, there’s always more to see and think about. We’re especially glad that The Drawing Room has launched this exhibit because we haven’t had the opportunity recently to interpret Shields’ work and, therefore, to see and think more about it. While books and catalogues discuss many aspects of his work, one characteristic is often missed: his “primitive” inspirations that include childlike sources. Also apparent in Shields’ work is his penchant for direction, or getting from place to place, although this element is subtle indeed. First, there are the primitive qualities, starting with Shields’ use of material like beads, threads and cotton belting. It calls to mind simple materials that children or Native Americans might employ (no stereotyping intended). And silly as this may seem, the grid-like patterns signifying a signature shape for Shields, resemble potholders that many young girls made in the 1950s (or perhaps even earlier). These seemingly ritualistic patterns may recall older civilizations and child’s play as well. Yet it makes sense that not all of Shields’ materials could possibly derive from such sources. Consider the fact that his threading becomes a drawing technique and that his emphasis on lines may come from an early connection with civil engineering. (He majored in the subject at Kansas State University but left beforegraduating.) Of course, even these interpretations are somewhat speculative, but may have merit, nonetheless.
“Semi-Perfect” by Alan Shields Shields’ primitive traits extend to his archetypical shapes. What becomes fascinating is their contradiction: thus, the repeating of the circles (“Chance Dance”), grids (“Shape Up”) and triangular (“Polo Rollover”) forms becomes confining (ritualistic) while evoking spontaneity. The decorative nature of Shields’ work may be related to its primitive quality,
too. As we discover these primitive-like derivations, we realize that Shields himself is giving us directions to discover his works’ landscape. First, he calls attention to the incompleteness of his patterns as our eye travels from place to place. Consider “Chance Dance,” where the circles run off the picture plane. Then there is “Chunky Blue Mint,” where a single line meanders down the side of the work. While it ends abruptly, we also know it continues beyond the boundaries of the art piece. In “Semi-Perfect,” Shields is perhaps commenting on the subtle asymmetrical arrangement of the shapes. Many works, in fact, contain an off-balance that’s difficult to discern. We begin to wonder where his work is going, literally, and what it is trying to tell us, if anything. For example, in Shields’ “Journey to SJU,” we don’t know what “SJU” is; we don’t know the destination of the line in “Chunky Blue Mint.” Are there really any distinct directions or straight lines in Shields’ work? Are there meant to be? After all, he references this idea in “Walk a Straight Line with It on Your Head.” What is “It?” Does that mean it’s impossible to follow a discernible path in life? The exhibit featuring Alan Shields will be on view at The Drawing Room in East Hampton until June 27. Call 631-324-5016 for information. CRITIC’S CHOICE:. Member’s Show at Water Mill Museum. On view until July 12. Brunch reception June 27, 11 a.m.-1 p.m.
Honoring the Artist: Dan Rattiner Our former publisher and editor, Dan Rattiner, has captured the Hamptons spirit perfectly on the cover this week. While he has characterized residents and visitors as “Masters of the Universe,” where such a cosmos includes all manner of iconic East End images, there’s another meaning that’s evoked (at least for this critic). It’s as though the Hamptons universe has exploded in mid-air, and so has the world in general. Simply put, Rattiner has created an “objective correlative,” a visual image that expresses a concept. The concept: life, and everything in it, is out of control, floating around in the chaotic atmosphere, while our finances, jobs and relationships are up for grabs. We have to admit; Rattiner’s cover makes us feel a bit better. We laugh. And that suits Rattiner just fine, who says he first started drawing cartoons in Junior High School to “make people laugh, and to be liked.” Cartoonist Rattiner is still going strong, putting out book after book of funny drawings that “ridicule life and man’s relationships.” But we can’t help but wonder who or what has influenced this “take” on the world. According to Rattiner, it was other cartoonists, like Ralph Steadman, JeanJacques Sempe and Saul Steinberg, who were his idols. But he may have had another inspirational source: his training as an architect at Harvard
University. Rattiner notes that he had to do illustrations as part of his studies. “I was good at perspective and had a good sense of what a scene looked like. I also had to deal with imaginary worlds.” Whatever his interests and talents (including being a classical pianist), “transmitting information that people would enjoy” is still the recurring
quality in Rattiner’s work. Yet there are other traits that exist when we examine his cartoons. We’ll start with his favorite one in his 2000 book, Ballet Parking,” the title being a play on words conveying a lyrical spirit. It’s a simple line drawing showing a sign: “Welcome to Southampton Village. Mute the Hoopla.” Is this Rattiner’s real opinion of his environs, a place that may conjure up festivity and affluence but serves as a pretty normal home for most people? Is he saying, “Be yourself when you come to the Hamptons?” We hope that interpretation hits the mark because it makes sense. Say what you will about Rattiner’s jabs at life in the Hamptons; they usually make sense. Consider another cartoon featuring a maze of cars and people with signs promoting various charity events. Rattiner’s caption: “The Director of the Community Center, in an act of spite before quitting, books all the charity events for the same night.” We shake our heads in recognition, wishing we had thought of doing something like that. We also realize that Rattiner’s idea here is “less is more,” just as his drawing technique is also a simple one (in fact, when asked how his technique has changed, Rattiner says, “It’s gotten more simple. I get more out of the line now.”). We imagine Rattiner gets more out of life now too. -Marion Wolberg Weiss