Perfectly Vermont: SPA struts its artists' stuff for the holidays
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David Smith's "Windshield" Roger Crowley/Times Argus |
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By Anne Galloway Times Argus Staff - Published: November 21, 2008
I often wish, in my fantasy parallel universe, that Christmas could be like Thanksgiving. The main advantage: No religious overtones. No advent, no rote recitation of the virgin birth miracle. Family and friends could get together, get sick on a lot of rich food, watch a lot of college football or Stephen Colbert, depending on the crowd, and even get in a few last shots at the deer in the neighborhood before the end of hunting season. Then the clan can disperse en masse — if and only if all the pies have been consumed.
Second big advantage: No presents. It's not that I'm a Grinch or anything, but most of us probably have enough stuff already. In my parallel universe, we would only be giving things to people who don't have enough of the survival stuffs.
But the fact is my universe might as well be one big black hole. You're gonna buy presents. I'm gonna buy presents. I'll probably even sing a carol or two. The whole Christmas thing is ingrained, and even the worst recession since the Great Depression (yes, the irony is intended here) isn't going to change this annual consumer culture crusade.
Since it's inevitable, the only other direction left is the uber green route, which is to say, when in doubt buy something from your Vermont neighbors. There are lots of ways to do this, of course, but since this is an art column, let me say again this year (yes, I have been saying this for five years), that art gifts are a great option.
My recommendation for a first stop on your tour of regional arts and craft shows is Studio Place Arts in Barre. At the risk of sounding like an infomercial, I'll tell you why. No. 1: SPA has a first-rate selection of fine art work – painting, sculpture, photography — and Frog Hollow style crafts, ranging from stained glass to baskets to ornaments, jewelry, pottery and an array of silk, handwoven and knitted scarves.
No. 2: The prices are right. Sure you could spend a grand on a painting if you wanted to, but that's the exception not the rule here. There are a number of paintings in the $25-$100 range. And a remarkable amount of merchandise for under $50.
No. 3: The money goes right into the artist's pocket; and a consignment fee goes to the nonprofit SPA which has served Barre as a community arts center since 2000. This year the artwork has been evenly distributed on all three floors of the building. The first floor (soon to include the classroom space next to the main gallery) features a mix of fine art and crafts. Works by artists represented in the main gallery are also on display on the second and third floors.
Even if you aren't in the fine-art buying frame of mind, it's worth walking upstairs to see what's on exhibit.
You won't want to miss, for example, Adelaide Murphy Tyrol's "Great Expectations," a large painting of what appears to be a monumental structure lifted up on spindly, uneven stilts. The setting is a rural landscape, despoiled by clearcutting. The hillside is a muddy rise, the horizon is lined with ominous-looking black firs and the sky is awash in stars, or the aftermath of a nuclear holocaust — it's so blazoned with flashes of light it's hard to tell which.
Next to this tour de force is David Smith's "Windshield," a dynamic painting of a turkey sweeping up in front of the glass. The canvas is dotted with daubs of bright baby blue paint; they look like big snowflakes hitting the windshield. Smith cleverly tilts the perspective slightly and adds the context tangentially: just a fragment of the rearview mirror and the dash are visible on the edges of the painting.
There are also several paintings by Cully Renwick in the show. Her technique is unique and hauntingly spare. She doesn't apply paint opaquely, she streaks it onto paper. Her images of people in empty landscapes are like rough, unfinished sketches: you only get a glimpse of the moment.
For comic relief, I turned to michael smith's garish paintings of ordinary objects. My favorite of his phenomenally cheap, small graphic renderings in acrylic is "Bread and Water," in which a loaf of Wonder bread sits in a green puddle.
Aaron Stein is back with his license place art. He has created a mini semi-trailer that's parked in one of SPA's windows, and there are a number of bracelets with key words highlighted, such as "Live free or die" and "Green Mountains."
For $30 you can buy one of Wendy James' "morning face" coffee mugs, featuring the squinched faces of happy crones, and framed black and white photos of real-life Vermont scenes. There are handknit socks, painted silk scarves, Scandinavian-style painted wood ornaments, a mod metal menorah, and vases that look like headless female mannequins sporting formal gowns.
Yes, you could say the selection is eclectic. The word "perfect" comes to mind, too. Perfectly unique, perfectly handmade, perfectly priced and very Vermont.