{"id":909,"date":"2020-04-24T05:22:56","date_gmt":"2020-04-24T05:22:56","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/blog.valdosta.edu\/artcriticism\/?p=909"},"modified":"2020-04-24T05:22:56","modified_gmt":"2020-04-24T05:22:56","slug":"a-catalog-of-erosion-in-american-society","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/blog.valdosta.edu\/artcriticism\/2020\/04\/24\/a-catalog-of-erosion-in-american-society\/","title":{"rendered":"A Catalog of Erosion in American Society"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

By Blake Wise<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u00a0 Attending the Dedo Maranville gallery exhibition \u201cBearing Witness\u201d, visitors could possibly walk in on live debates over social issues within American economics and politics. The discussion always started on the walls and stretched around the entire gallery space connected from piece to piece. Margi Weir is the artist behind the work, and claims she’s had a myriad of different reactions from audiences since the series began, but one thing she’s always experienced is the impact. Weir’s work revolves around social constructs, governing ideology, racism, environmental issues and almost anything that has sculpted the American people over the past century into who we are, what we do and why we do it. The answers are all the same: we\u2019re not doing enough.\u00a0\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n

First impressions with Weir’s work are immediately staggering. Large paintings surrounded by very bold, vibrant colors and shapes made of vinyl grasp the viewer by the wrist and tell them to follow along. With their large size and visual activity and impactful, aggressive message it\u2019s hard not to. Aggressive in the sense of presentation; these paintings harbor no ill-will but their intentions are bright and bold enough to demand attention. The compositions made in vinyl seem to jump from\u00a0the paintings continuing onto the wall and decorating the negative space of the gallery between the large paintings. Weir thinks this technique shows how none of these issues should be seen as separate. However, I think Weir believes that\u00a0each of\u00a0these\u00a0issues demands\u00a0its own attention and should rightly be addressed as such. Often these paintings and vinyl layering are accompanied by sculptures mounted to the wall as well, using ceramics or mixed media. Weir uses popular, easily recognizable icons throughout each of her pieces that symbolize many political, social, economic and cultural problems that the average American citizen is constantly reminded about through engaging discussion, thought, and interaction with the world around them. The installation at Dedo Maranville is to be seen as one large piece that has many voices, depicted in a scene that wraps around the gallery, connecting each piece.\u00a0\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The painting which first caught my eye and drew me over, as well as many other guests, personifies and structures how in depth and heavily focused these works are.\u00a0Justice\u00a0In\u00a0America (Part One)\u00a0<\/em>caught a large amount of attention at the exhibition.\u00a0<\/em>This work among the installation interacts with the Vinyl stuck on the walls to become a single image much like the rest of the series. A scene has been laid out across the top, middle, and bottom thirds of the painting in rows. At the top, we see men standing behind bars in jail cells. They face each other in a pattern and wear bright orange inmate jumpsuits. Along the top of their cells is a line of dancing men in suits; not just any men. The pose and the image\u00a0mimic\u00a0the infamous \u201cJim Crow\u201d performed by Thomas D. Rice. As\u00a0a comedian from the 1800s who wore blackface makeup and played in crude shows, Rice made this image known as Jim Crow very famous. He was often known under\u00a0the name \u201cJim Crow\u201d or \u201cJump Jim Crow\u201d which was then used to coin the term addressing many racial segregation laws and practices in the late 1830s. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"\"<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

Justice in America (Part One),\u00a0\u200b<\/em>2016, acrylic on canvas, 76″ x 64″ surrounded by vinyl on wall <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

This is a bold and easily recognizable icon of the themes revolving around this piece. The rest of the painting resembles a jail’s courtyard skyline that is blocked by razor-wire fencing and guard forts lining the horizon. There are many symbols used in the painting, including crows, handcuffs, the poses, etc. These are all signifiers that any viewer, especially Americans, would recognize as terms circulating racial issues and wrongful incarceration going on in the masses, death. The icons representing racism include the strong narrative of racial profiling against black people\u2014black men most definitely\u2014within the American justice system.\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            It goes without saying that these issues being brought before us are important. The wrongful incarceration, mistrial, invalidation, or murder of any man should not go unrecognized. The point Weir is making is that this seems too natural. These experiences are real, and happen every single day to the average black male in America. The frustration and anger of the people whose loved ones are taken away from them continues to build every single day. Each of these acts against young men and women, and the African American people within the nation do not go forgotten. These actions begin to build on each other and start to slowly crumble away the patience within us and the black community before we inevitably lash out. I heard names being spoken around the painting. Names of loved ones lost, cousins, criminals from news headlines, friends of friends, coworkers. Together, all of these voices demonstrated what the painting was speaking about so clearly.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

            If the painting itself wasn’t enough, the sculptures nearby \u201cflying\u201d over the fences in the negative space on the walls will drive the narrative further. Weir calls them Don’t Shoot Hand-birds.<\/em> These sculptures are easily identified as they combine two simple visionary icons: open hands, and a gun. The phrase \u201cDON’T SHOOT\u201d is written across the barrel of the gun which is used as the \u201cbody\u201d for this bird amalgamation, and the spread palms of the hands are the wings. The signifiers in this piece would be both the hands and the gun, representing the very first objects that are often seen in these altercations. The hands stand in place for the first thing officers ask to see when these men and women are brought into an interaction. The accused, whose hands being brought high into the air as a surrender, showing they mean no harm and hope to settle this without violence. The gun represents the opposite of those hands, asking for the innocent until proven guilty to avoid resistance… or else. Ironically, they work together in this piece, hoping to stay in-flight above the scene below them.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"\"<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

Don’t Shoot Gun Birds,\u00a0<\/em>2017, acrylic on hand carved sentra, laser cut plexi and vinyl on wall \u200bdimensions variable, here 120″ x 120″ Hardesty Art Center, Tulsa OK <\/p>\n\n\n\n

            In her artist statement, Weir states: <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThrough decorative patterning, the work of art draws the viewer into a slowly unfurling narrative that invites a discussion about ecology and\/or sociopolitical realities of the contemporary world around us. Meaning is implied by the juxtaposition of images, not stated in narrative fashion. Conclusions are left to the viewer in the hope that a continued questioning will be inspired by the work of art. (Weir)\u201d<\/em> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Those conclusions are sometimes quite varied. While many of the attendees of the exhibition during my visit were quite liberal, most of them were also artists. I spoke to Weir about the reception of her works that have such strong messages like Justice in America (Part One) <\/em>and she agreed, stating that she’s had almost combative reactions to her work, but she welcomes it. Her other works often twist the hearts of viewers who disagree with the statements she displays in her pieces, whether they be about capitalist structures, big business, environmental urgency, technological advancement, etc.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

            Yet the work is never intended to be agreed with or received well. The intent is to gather minds and open discussion. Viewing the installation alone could lead to one obtaining a greater understanding of how these issues relate to each other, and how important they are to start talking about. No progress is made when we keep our opinions to ourselves. There are many voices to be heard, and this installation speaks for all walks of life.  <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

By Blake Wise \u00a0 Attending the Dedo Maranville gallery exhibition \u201cBearing Witness\u201d, visitors could possibly walk in on live debates over social issues within American economics and politics. The discussion always started on the walls and stretched around the entire gallery space connected from piece to piece. Margi Weir is the artist behind the work, … Continue reading A Catalog of Erosion in American Society<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":569,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[127],"tags":[46,128,142],"class_list":["post-909","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-margi_weir","tag-dedo-maranville-fine-arts-gallery","tag-margi-weir","tag-political"],"acf":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/blog.valdosta.edu\/artcriticism\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/909","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/blog.valdosta.edu\/artcriticism\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/blog.valdosta.edu\/artcriticism\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blog.valdosta.edu\/artcriticism\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/569"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blog.valdosta.edu\/artcriticism\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=909"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/blog.valdosta.edu\/artcriticism\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/909\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":914,"href":"https:\/\/blog.valdosta.edu\/artcriticism\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/909\/revisions\/914"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/blog.valdosta.edu\/artcriticism\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=909"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blog.valdosta.edu\/artcriticism\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=909"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blog.valdosta.edu\/artcriticism\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=909"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}