Identité n°2, Piotr Kowalski, 1973. Photo by Alexandria Petropoulakis
Still, instead of referencing these works first, my mind immediately wandered to places more unremarkable and common – the clothing shop I had just visited or the trendy restaurant I had recently eaten at. At the time, a mental note was made of the neon signs featured in both, with the aim of resonating as edgy and hip decoration. Perhaps due to this connection, I felt myself starting to dismiss the show as ‘cool’, ‘fashionable’, and not much else. As I moved throughout the space, a clear distinction became apparent between the two sides of the gallery. On the left were neon wall hangings, made up of vibrant yellows, tangerines and reds, which were organic in shape and resembled a strange growth in form. It was these works, such as Neon Wrapping Incandescent III (1970), which felt too ‘easy;’ the compositions were busy and overbearing, and with the hot neon colours the pieces stepped into the realm of kitsch. I was not alone in naturally gravitating towards the other side of the gallery, which featured large geometric shapes of Plexiglas paired with simple neon lines and curves. These works were leaning up against the wall rather than hung, to which effect their sculptural qualities were enhanced. It was these pieces, such as Neon Wall Slant (1968) or ones from the Ba-O-Ba series, that made me think twice about my initial assumptions of the show. By contrast, this group felt like they were trying to be something more than just flashy, attention-grabbing objects. It was clear that Sonnier was looking at the juxtaposition of the angles, length, and colour of each neon bar, which felt more considered than the former group. These pieces also emphasized the reflective qualities of not only the Plexiglas but the gallery setting as well. The reflection of each piece on the slick polished floor allowed the work to have a bigger presence, which extended into the viewer’s physical space, and secondly, the Plexiglas acted as a mirror for the audience to see themselves within each piece, literally and figuratively. Though the distinction between the two sides of the gallery seemed quite obvious, in reality the seven works from the show were all done within a three-year time span, between 1968-70, as the exhibition title suggests. It was in the 1960s that artists looked to experiment with industrial materials within their practice, and Sonnier was not the only one to develop an affinity for neon; Lily Lakitch, Chryssa and the previously mentioned Piotr Kowalski were all exploring the medium as well. Yielding similar results to Sonnier, Kowalski’s Identité n°2 (1973) plays with the conversation between geometry, reflection, and of course, neon. Probably the most celebrated neon artist, Bruce Nauman, is known for his mischievous way with words while masking his deeper concerns
with language and communication. When mixing text with neon, one cannot help but to reference its roots: businesses – often sleazy, sometimes not – trying to capture the attention of outside patrons. Therefore, Nauman’s neon dwells in quite a different world than Sonnier’s simplistic use of it. After leaving New York, my thoughts stayed with Sonnier’s show and I wondered about the current state of neon art in general. Since the work in the show dated over 30 years, I was eager to find out who, if anyone, was still making use of the medium; a good place to start seemed to be locating the origins of the piece which caught my eye in that recently visited restaurant. The work, titled Love Me Till I’m Me Again (2007), happened to be from Canadian artist Thrush Holmes, who boasts a handful of impressive neon pieces. Aside from a few works which read as flat one-liners, such as Still Life (2011), Holmes’ most recent work seems to really push against the boundaries and restrictions of the medium in a refreshing way. Especially compelling are the seamless neon additions to a large-scale painting in the bold 1 Up (2012). A recent review of neon and its place in the art world suggests that the medium’s kitsch associations are fading, and while I believe this sentiment can be said of Holmes’ work, fellow emerging artist Oliva Steele seems to miss the mark. It is clear that Steele, who mainly works with text, grounds her practice in current trends and popular culture. As with all neon, the eye is easily caught, yet the majority of Steele’s work fails to hold attention; her phrases, such as “Poor but Sexy” or “It was All a Dream” read as clichéd and unoriginal. From her use of religious imagery to Lady Gaga lyrics, Steele’s work is too much ‘fashionable’ and not enough ‘refined’. It is this sense of refinement that leads my thoughts back to the Sonnier show in New York, and more specifically his second group of sculptures. I realize that what I admire most about them is exactly what Steele is lacking—sophistication and simplicity. These qualities make the medium more effective, as it reflects a confidence within both the work and artist, as well as demonstrates a learned skill of restraint with the already flashy neon material. Opposite of many neon works, which can be received as intimidating or off-putting, Sonnier’s clear shapes and open forms invite the viewer in quite effortlessly, while the Plexiglas allows the viewer to get lost within the work and consider the relationship between real light, real life and what is reflected. Although this work was realized over three decades ago, Sonnier’s 68-70 comes across as fresh and relevant in relation to current neon art practices and the contemporary art scene.
FASHION & LIFESTYLE SOCIETY
45