Glenn Harper

  • Clyde Broadway

    Clyde Broadway’s work is a satiric faux-naïf attack on glitzy contemporary mythologies. Some of his paintings suggest outsider art, with their bright primary colors and cartoonlike drawing; the series of small one-sided sculptures in this show, entitled “Kicking Ass and Taking Names” might even be taken for imitations of Howard Finster. These works graphically depict instances of hostility and anger, and include the “Hussein Series,” which is right up-to-date. But it is in the larger works that his intentions become clear; this show, entitled “Worries of the Western World: An Investigation of

  • John McWilliams

    John McWilliams, one of the leading photographers of the Southern landscape, has organized this exhibition entitled “Land of Deepest Shade” around a series of apocalyptic quotations from an 1844 shape-note hymnal entitled The Sacred Harp. At the entrance to the gallery the artist presents a quotation from Charles Wesley’s and A. Davidson’s Idumea: “A land of deepest shade, / Unpierced by human thought, / The dreary regions of the dead, / Where all things are forgot.” In the South as represented by McWilliams, however, things are not so much forgotten as ignored. The subject of most of the works

  • “Art in Berlin: 1815–1989”

    “Art in Berlin: 1815–1989,” curated by Gudmund Yigtel, managed to suggest the complexity of the interrelationship of history, politics, and art in Berlin, though without capturing in depth any single era. The first strand of the exhibition was the neoclassical work of Karl Friedrich Schinkel. The architect and draftsman was represented by two lithographs and by the 1811 painting Kathedrale (Cathedral), which shows his architectural ambitions as well as the oblique light, Romantic landscape, and shadowed foreground of much German painting of the period. Berlin cityscapes by Johann Heinrich Hintze,

  • Chea Prince

    Chea Prince is one of a number of Atlanta artists who have sought theoretical models in French poststructuralist philosophy. He draws on the eroticism of Georges Bataille, while his debt to linguistic philosophers such as Jacques Derrida is reflected in the irritating tendency to title his works with French puns and to write self-deconstructing artist’s statements. The pieces themselves are mixed-media compilations of Pop art, mass-media imagery, figural references to artists such as Robert Indiana, Marcel Duchamp, and Jackson Pollock, and literal references to bondage, domination, and sexual

  • Gina Gilmour

    Gina Gilmour is a North Carolina-born artist who, in her recent paintings, seeks to render suburbia as an emblematic Southern landscape. She freezes moments of loss or tragedy in symbolic tableaux on front lawns, well-groomed lakeshores, and front steps of suburban houses. Her scenes seem alternately trivial and surreal, empty and meaningful. The ambiguity is deliberate: Gilmour wants to juxtapose the hollowness of the everyday with the suddenness of disaster or epiphany. Subtly (and sometimes not-so-subtly) weaving symbols into the paintings, she raises moral themes indirectly, in a visual

  • Tommy Richards

    Tommy Richards is a self-taught sculptor who makes wall assemblages from industrial building materials. Richards knows these materials intimately: he is a plumbing inspector for the city of Atlanta, and he began making his pieces inside the walls of high-rise buildings. The works are now independent of the structures that inspired them, but they still bear traces of their source in terms of material, color, and imagery Richards turns the city inside out. The glass and concrete skins of tall buildings are peeled back to reveal a riot of color-coded grids and conduits. Some pieces take as titles

  • Benny Andrews

    Benny Andrews’ recent work projects an extraordinarily humane vision. Andrews never loses sight of his subjects’ hardships. In the group of works from the “Southland” series, 1988, his characters are noble but not artificially so. Thanksgiving resembles Grant Wood’s American Gothic, 1930, but the farm couple are shown in full view and standing next to a pair of mules. In this and many other works, the mule is Andrews’ symbol of rural life, and the parallel between animal and human captures both the realism of Andrews’ idea of life in the rural South and a nostalgia for his Southern roots.


  • Debra Gavant Swan

    In Debra Gavant Swan’s paintings, collages, and reliefs, art and religion are more often carnival sideshows than windows opening onto some truth. 25¢ A Toss, 1988, a canvas pierced by a small window that reveals a grinning mouth and nose, shows us this carnival’s barker most directly. He appears in some sculptures as a three-dimensional mannequin who looks like a cross between the wooden figure-models used by drawing students and the faceless creatures in the paintings of Mark Kostabi. In Under the Circumstances, 1987, this character hides beneath a table bearing a collection of fruit and bottles

  • Joan Farrel

    The subject of Joan Farrell’s paintings and collages is the tacky, glittery surface of everyday life and the desire, fear, and commerce that lie beneath that surface. Speared Heart (all works 1988) demonstrates the opposition of the surface and depth literally: what appears to be a Valentine’s Day candy box becomes, on closer inspection, a heart-shaped funeral piece, with a piercing shaft that is more like a fishtailed worm than Cupid’s arrow. In other pieces, Farrell writes phrases such as “Safe Sex,” “Never Burn Original Mortgage Documents,” and “Fall’s Most Flattering Suits” using glitter or

  • Wynn Ragland

    Wynn Ragland’s recent work comprises a series of color photographs that have been transferred to Cibachrome by a computer mapping process. All five works use the saturated color of early abstraction and sometimes pointedly refer to the abstract styles of the ’20s. The pieces are large (3 by 5 feet and 4 by 5 feet) and combine abstract and figural elements. Ragland imports images into a computer from the media or from life as seen through a video camera, then manipulates them and prints the result from a transparency produced by a dot matrix camera. In some cases, the result is balanced and

  • Pat Courtney

    For several years, Pat Courtney has been reproducing images and text from dictionaries in paintings and photocopies that expose power relations inherent in the language and culture. With her latest work, Courtney has branched out in medium and content, adding to the dictionary pieces several Xeroxes from other sources, a sound installation, a Styrofoam wall piece bearing the word “Ozone,” and an installation of View-master© viewers showing sites of development, demolition, and pollution of the physical and intellectual environment.

    One of the dictionary pieces in this show is the key to the

  • Herbert Creecy

    This recent retrospective of Herbert Creecy’s work brought together 70 works, including the large acrylic paintings for which he is best known, as well as smaller canvases, mixed-media sculptures, and whimsical toy sculptures. The vocabulary and distinctive style of Creecy’s paintings, characterized by a diffuse focus and abrupt shifts in line and texture, have remained remarkably consistent throughout his mature career. Some works, like Potato Valley Creek under Pressure, 1987, are contests between straight diagonal lines (with occasional graceful curves) and smokelike trails and squirts of

  • Roger Dorset

    For the last 10 years Roger Dorset has obsessively sought the primal sources of art in the self, sexuality, and religion. Stripping away the languages of the market and the art school, he has achieved what he calls a “déjà vu language,” in which a viewer can recognize basic emotions, shared perceptions, or common experiences. Dorset’s work, often in the form of iconlike “shrines” or “reliquaries,” may seem to owe much to primitive or outsider art, but it is not based on imitation. Instead, he has compulsively simplified his content and his form of expression, so that his symbols and technique

  • Ann Holcomb

    Family history and its mirror in snapshot photography are always characterized by what is left out: the happy memories in the photo album depend on the forgetting of mental illness, repressive sex roles, or, particularly in the South, race relations. Ann Holcomb’s recent mixed-media photographs are concerned with the return of the repressed, the reconsideration of the whole context of family history. She has rephotographed family pictures, adding words, objects, and oblique title-sentences. The result is an allusive narrative of illness, discrimination, and folklore.

    The photographs that were

  • Lyn Miller

    Lyn Miller’s work is rooted in the fascination evoked by media imagery, but her style is ambivalent rather than aggressively rhetorical. The seven works in her recent show (all from 1987) are figurative, combining the techniques of propaganda, advertising, and religious iconography, sometimes rather uneasily. In 1982–83 Miller worked in the studios of Robert Longo and Andy Warhol, and, since returning to the South, she has been developing an idiom that bends the strategies of Pop and appropriation toward her own concerns.

    Amok is a two-part work in which Miller juxtaposes revolutionary realism

  • Frances de La Rosa

    In her recent “metaphorical landscapes,” as she calls them, Frances de La Rosa looks back across the gulf of Greenbergian flatness and its ironic revival in recent abstraction toward the perspectival Surrealism of Yves Tanguy (without the burden of the Surrealists’ psychological program). De La Rosa paints rolling hills, round-roofed huts, square farm plots, and tall rectangular buildings, with occasional swooping, phallic vegetal growths that suggest Jack’s beanstalk as they shoot up through square holes cut in overhanging, ominous clouds. These are all painted in a broadly pointillist technique

  • Thomasine Bradford

    Thomasine Bradford’s new work is philosophical without abandoning its concrete physicality. She uses materials and strategies reminiscent of Jannis Kounellis to create a formal and personal vision of female embodiment. The “Unsigned” series, 1987, is ambiguously figural. Bradford has set roughly cube-shaped glass vessels (each about 12 inches on a side) on standing shelves made of weathered scrap wood. The vessels refer simultaneously to the place of women’s bodies in Western, Christian society (vessels of both iniquity and reproduction, bearers of milk) and to the art forms considered appropriate

  • E. K. Huckaby

    E. K. Huckaby is a young painter whose sometimes highly realistic and sometimes abstract works in oil present normal reality in an enigmatic and suggestive manner. He also makes assemblages that are satiric altars, often accompanied by terse poetic statements employing both post-Structural and anticlerical vocabularies. In the last two years he has become more and more prominent through large group exhibitions, and his recent show of new works (all from 1987) in a temporary gallery at Clayton State College in suburban Atlanta has consolidated his presence as an important and idiosyncratic voice

  • Neill Bogan and Susan Loftin, Theater

    Theater was a collaboration between performance artist Neill Bogan and sculptor Susan Loftin, combining sculpture, video, and theater in a coherent, stimulating, and eerie performance work. Loftin reconceived the interior of the Nexus Theater by blocking off the seats from the aisles with ceiling-high, pastel-colored chain link fencing and, at the same time, connecting the stage and the audience via two wooden bridges and linking a chair at front row center (occupied by Loftin during the performance) to a chair onstage with a “corridor” created by two suspended ropes made of yellow tape. The

  • Sam Roussi

    Sam Roussi’s recent work makes no reference to French post-Structuralist theory, but he shares with Jacques Derrida a fascination with marks that remain opaque and writing that refuses to coalesce into a single meaning. The simple loops and jagged lines that characterize paintings like Rough Begging Talk and Back Door Crusher, both 1986, are derived from “hobo language,” a series of marks used by hobos onwalls, doors, or fences to leave messages for other hobos regarding the relative merits of various towns and railroad stops. Roussi has worked and reworked the signs he has taken from this code