Woke up This Morning, Got Myself a Gun – Erik Bakke’s Weatherby Painting
James Kalm
We Americans like
our guns! We like to pull out the “big guns,” “shoot straight,”
“hit the bull’s eye,” and “blow away the competition.”
Let’s face it, there are few objects or images that are more “loaded”
than guns. Since 9/11here in New York we’re all soldiers, combatants on
the front lines of the battle, perhaps not directly against the likes of Osama
bin Laden or Saddam Hussein, but against the more pernicious and insidious enemies
of ignorance and apathy. Time to “lock and load!”
Erik Bakke approaches
the idea of the gun from the imagistic side. The Weatherby Painting, 2003, is
a huge (over 12 x 25ft.) canvas that completely fills, one could say, almost
over fills the main wall of the gallery. The depictions are appropriated from
a copy of the famous Weatherby Rifle catalogue (Tomorrow’s Rifles Today)
owned by the artist’s father. The composition is made up of two images.
On the left is a picture of John Wayne being presented with his own custom made
Weatherby. Wayne is wearing a wide brimmed hat, the raking shadows reduce the
features to an abstract pattern of dark blots. On the right is an equally sunny
scene from a trophy hunt. An Asian prince is presented with his fresh kill, and
of course, his Weatherby is prominently displayed between the horns of the recently
plugged water buffalo. The rendering is in pale earth and neutral tones, with
increased coloristic intensity used as a distinguishing device. There is an echo
of a sun bleached machismo which lingers on only in the pages of faded sporting
photo albums, the minds of old hunters and perhaps their off spring. Much raw
canvas and bare ground are exposed. The artist explained that the entire painting
was done with the use of a single #4 brush. This means of execution, which entails
a meditative repetitiveness, and produces a staccato textural element, as well
as the rough finish, add another level of physical expression. This tends to
attract the eye to those areas, which over the time of application, have received
the most tediously layered strokes of defining pigment. This painting wouldn’t
seem out of place in the parched dusty Idaho foothills where I spent time shooting
at a range this summer. Praise the Lord and pass the ammunition.
The other aspect
of the gun that seems to attract attention is its aesthetics, and design as a
functional implement, a tool. Anyone with an appreciation of finely machined
metal, wood, and plastic will love the look and feel of a good side arm. The
artists represented in “Up in Arms,” at Parker’s Box, present
us with more models of guns than one might see at a Michigan Militia meeting,
or a Denver gun show. Although not guns but ordinance, I was drawn to Jaques
Flèchemuller’s reproductions of funky, low-tech suitcase bombs, each
complete with a descriptive plaque documenting the date and location they were
discovered. As sculptural “boxes” they present an explosive potential
that makes me wonder about the shrapnel danger one might encounter from a Cornell
box blast. Tom Sachs has crafted a small-bore rifle out of bits, pieces, and
springs that could be purchased from any hardware store. Add a snazzy spray can
paint job, and a quote from Malcolm X burned into the stock, and you’ve
got a low budget gat for ghetto sniping. Along with the nuts and bolts, are some
renditions featuring the “high crafts.” Claire Lieberman has filled
a velvet-lined showcase with her blown and hand shaped crystal pistols. These
appear timid enough with their swelling and sometime spiky glass forms, though
they seem to ask to be picked up and held. Charles Krafft, appropriately named,
offers a pair of Delftware shooters. The refined shapes of the white ceramic
and the deep blue of the painted designs provide a domestic old European flavor
to their lethal shapes. Their preciousness is further extolled by their custom
made fitted cases. At my first encounter with the work of Susan Graham, she was
using sugar to create her filigree versions of firearms. Since then the pieces
have transformed into ghostly porcelain skeletons of your favorite revolver or
automatic, though something of their former sweetness remains. Our attraction
to weapons is ancient. Some of mankind’s oldest examples of art are knives,
spears, and axes, all objects held in the hands, and designed for a specific
function. In the end the user decides the danger of the tool. Art doesn’t
kill people. People kill people; just ask Christo.
