Chelsea galleries provide diversity at every turn

Amanda Casgar

On a very snowy Saturday in the climax of what more inventive newscasters were calling the "Winter Wallop of 2005," I ventured outside the warm and safe confines of my East Side New York apartment not knowing exactly where I'd go for a "quick hit" of art. As many know, the only directions needed for finding something new and interesting are aptly immortalized by the Village People in their hit, "Go West." You see, there is a little corner (9th Avenue--West Side Highway) of Chelsea that runs only 10 blocks north to south (West 17th Street--West 27th Street) that is home to the gallery "mother lode."

With more than 300 nearby art spots worth investigating and not knowing what I'd find inside the number of buildings that held multiple galleries, I took a stab in the dark and entrusted my afternoon to an elevator operator who had not been grounded by the storm. At 526 West 26th St., my friend and I were transported, per the advice of said operator, to the second floor hoping that someone had still opened his or her door in spite of the storm.

Our first stop was Michael Steinberg Fine Art. As soon as I walked into the space, I was struck by an enormous drawing directly in front of me on the gallery wall. Amy Yoes' "Fragments," described as a "a series of sepia ink on paper drawings, completed over the last few years, started as rough sketches that were meant for use as an alphabet of motifs, to draw on when beginning a painting," was totally surprising. The drawings were reminiscent of the patterns and imagery that one might find in nature. In addition to the large-scale drawing, there were also smaller pieces that, while not applied directly to the space, echoed Yoes' theme of "time framing the room itself" as the patterns were isolated and developed in progressive frames.

Wandering further into the gallery, the benign tones and muted patterns of Yoes' work were trumped by a riot of neon and mixed media. Where Yoes makes her statement with less, Jen Kim is decidedly a graduate of the "more" school. What ties these two artists together is an earnest sentiment behind each exhibition. Kim's exhibit, "there were two hearts, then came the third ...," also is site-specific, which makes these two artists' use of the same space so unique.

Kim's exhibit included this explanation: "For this exhibition thousands of acetate squares that Kim calls 'flickers' are adhered to the walls and windows of the main gallery with colorful tape. These shimmering layers refract light and are made to flutter as viewers pass by." What results is a completely interactive experience that forces the viewer to connect to the exhibit in a different way, each and every time the individual walks past the installations. Bright pink, green and black complement each other to explore the theme of love and finding a partner in someone.

Next stop on my "art tour" proved to be a dose of something completely different. Leora Laor's "Wanderland" at the Andrea Meislin Gallery was a digital snapshot into the lives of "everyday people in Jerusalem's main public park and in Mea Shearim, the city's ultra-Orthodox religious neighborhood," read a description of the exhibit. "Simultaneously, the old world subject matter is contextualized by the new world video stills to create a thought-provoking contrast for the voyeur. 'Wanderland' is Laor's creation, conveying a dual meaning in name and image. Wander concerns human wandering and the wandering Jew, in contradistinction to the word land that signifies permanence. Counter to this stands the magic wand held by the artist."

For the average person walking past the 41 photographs, the triple entendre of the exhibition's title was not readily apparent (at least it wasn't to me). What was clear was the way Laor identified with her subjects. It was obvious that this artist felt a connection to Orthodox Jews and the struggle of being traditional people living in a time that often questions those traditions.

The last stop on my tour was just down the hall at the Nicole Klagsbrun gallery's exhibition by Sheila Berger. As we walked through the gallery to the back room that held the bulk of Berger's work, I remembered batiking fabric when I was in elementary school. These pieces were anything but basic as each piece completely changed before my eyes, depending on my distance from it. "Using the ancient method of encaustic painting, which dates back to the 5th century B.C., Berger combines a rich blend of raw pigment, liquid wax and dammar crystals, which she burns on the surface," read a description of the exhibit. "The grid-like style of her paintings, created with the use of woodblock prints, has evolved into a more whimsical style. Rich deep color is still predominant in her paintings, reflective of the cultures that the artist has explored in her travels."

From the center of the room, both small and large pieces looked like pulled fabric across a canvas. As I ventured closer to the bright magenta room-dominating piece on the rear wall, I was surprised by the plastic/wax smoothness of the medium. The crystals Berger used only accentuated the effort behind her method as they too created an interesting dimension that teased this viewer's perception.

As my friend and I walked back to the elevator at 526 West 26th St., I was amazed by the diverse wonderland of art into which we had wandered. Our refuge from the heavy snow and driving winds turned out to be a study in method and meaning. Each artist had used a different medium for which to make her point regarding love, loss, religion, nature and culture.

Unexpected were the discussions that followed as my friend and I revealed our take on each exhibition. In between bits of banana cake and sips of hot cider at a nearby bakery, we contemplated the lives of gallery owners and their shared motivation to open their doors on the snowiest day of the year, when every radio and television has issued a warning to stay indoors. I had a mission this day and was pleasantly surprised by what I found. What was more surprising were the other people who had decided to investigate these galleries as well. Wandering with strangers, I realized that the best part of this city is that it really never sleeps--and never shrinks from a challenge.

For reprints of this article, contact Charles Lang at 888-772-8926 x266 or e-mail clang@pfpublish.com.

SOURCES

* Michael Steinberg Fine Art, 212-924-5770, www.msfineart.com

* Andrea Meislin Gallery, 212-627-2552, www.andreameislin.com

* Nicole Klagsbrun, 212-243-3335, www.nicoleklagsbrun.com

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