San Francisco

Tio Giambruni and Harry Lum

Berkeley Gallery

Giambruni’s recent sculptures have lost their tentacley quality and have now taken two separate di­rections—one in which flotsam is assembled in an ascending stream on a vertical column, in direct opposition to his former enfolded “cephlapods,” and one where he again enfolds shapes, but they are streamers which become globes. He also shows a number of small discs. They suggest an involvement with Buddhist philosophy, especially as the meticulous drawings he also shows seem to have been inspired by contemplation of the navel. Giambruni still takes his subject matter from nature as it is revealed at the sources.

In his large paintings, Lum drapes nude chicken-skin to resemble many shapes, all suggestive of human situa­tions. The crux of his show is three huge paintings inspired by a visit to a chicken-parts factory. Taking them nu­merically: there is the denuding machine, full of bare parts from which some blood drips and a few white feathers ascend like souls leaving the body. A morgue with bodies in a state of rigor mortis, one of which resembles a grisly Deposition, and finally, a dis­arrangement of stripped parts in which all identity is lost. All, that is, except the pearly skin which is Lum’s interest at the moment, and one feels as if he has just witnessed a martyrdom rather than the preparation of a foodstuff.

Elizabeth M. Polley