Spin at CVB Space
Kate Lowenstein
Like a New Orleans jazz funeral, the "Spin" show at CVB Space in the Meatpacking District combines the notion of demise with buoyant brass music for a jarring effect. The sprawling show is comprised of 56 works of sculpture, painting, photography and video, and makes for a bewildering experience. While all the art is very loosely related to the innumerable meanings of the word "spin," a more cohesive theme may be found elsewhere: proceeds from the sale of the art will go to animals affected by Hurricane Katrina, and because of this, one cannot help but imagine there is tacit homage being paid to the Big Easy in the collection of works.
At the entrance to the gallery is a piece by resident artist Cynthia von Buhler, who also curated the show. What I Am Now You Will One Day Be is a rotating wheel into which viewers may peek to see a series of portraits of a woman who gets progressively older as the wheel spins, eventually becoming a skeleton. Carnival music blares incongruously from another piece nearby, lightening–or perhaps making more chilling–the allegory of death and decay in von Buhler’s sculpture. As the wheel continues to turn, the skeleton regains its flesh and hair to become the youthful person it started as. This idea of circularity and rejuvenation is carried through a number of pieces in "Spin," and is a mark of hope to counter the show’s sorrowful undertones.
Al Gori provides the centerpiece and soundtrack for the show with his Homespun Merry-Go-Round. Manic carnival music plays as two seats whirl around a cacophony of dancing stuffed animals. The ride, which is fully functional and was made from the rear axle of a 1968 Dodge and a washing machine motor, is perhaps intended to be no more than straightforward fun, with dancing monkeys, a piano-playing teddy bear and a bubble machine. In the context of "Spin," however, the jolly carousel leaves an unsettling feeling, and not just because riding on it will make you dizzy; a large snake coiled around the tree trunk-like center post of the carousel sends a reminder that Eden can slip away with one turn of fate.
Overshadowed by the larger (and more interesting) sculptures in the show is a series of LP records: 41 artists revamped the near-defunct musical medium, turning the black discs into visual art. Interpretations range from sweet and sparkly–such as Patti Hudson’s Goobers-cum-tinsel creation–to political, with Dave Tree’s stenciled portrait of Bush, complete with a Hitler-inspired mustache in the form of a dollar sign positioned below his nose. Unplayable records–perhaps symbols for the culturally rich streets of New Orleans that now stand in hushed silence–have been made artistically relevant again in honor of the rejuvenation that must be brought to the flooded city. Unfortunately, many of the discs appear carelessly made, and others look commercial enough to be sold to tourists at a booth in Union Square.
Von Buhler’s Uncle Sam puts yet another spin on the show’s title. An old-fashioned statue of the stars-and-stripes-clad figure stands with his hand extended. For 25 cents, viewers can shake the hand and hear "Weapons of Mass Destruction," "Iran Contra," "No New Taxes," or one of seven other audio clips of, as Ms. Von Buhler put it, "presidential spin." If only the statue addressed such an issue as Michael Brown’s sweeping failure, the piece–in the context of the show–would have been complete.
As the date of FEMA’s revocation of funds to Katrina survivors draws near, it is heartening to find a show that not only aims to send aid to the city, but also reminds us of the ultimate hope that a city once so rife with creativity might one day circle back and regain its life and vigor.
