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In the1930s, Mae West debunked stereotypes about women. Her films, many of which she not only starred in but also wrote and produced, were full of sexual jokes and innuendo. For this reason they were deemed scandalous; this made West no stranger to censorship. But it wasn't just the sexual references that made “proper” ladies and gentleman blush; West was brash and showy, and she thumbed her nose at culturally defined notions of gender and femininity.
Carmen Ruiz-Davila, whose exhibition, Everywhere and Here , is currently on view at MOCA, references one of West's films, Klondike Annie, in her one of her installations. In the film, West plays Rose Carlton, a singer who is imprisoned by her Chinese lover, Chan Lo. The title of Ruiz-Davila's piece recalls a scene from the film, in which West wryly sings, “I'm an Occidental woman in an Oriental mood for love.” Ruiz-Davila's symmetrically ordered and beautifully fabricated lifesize table setting includes a sushi plate, chopsticks, desserts and a placemat. The plate, which holds a transparent pillow, doubles as a bed and refers to the beleaguered love affair between the stereotypically obsessive Chinese man and the kept woman whose nonconforming (by 1930s standards) decision to lead an “immoral” life sends her down a path toward sexual enslavement and ultimately murder, as she kills her lover in self-defense.
I'm an Occidental Woman in an Oriental Mood for Love is typical of Ruiz-Davila's work, as she mines history, popular culture and cultural icons in an attempt to debunk and question cultural authority and stereotypes. However, the artist is so subtle in her explorations that the content is often overshadowed by her well-crafted sculptural components. And the important messages she is attempting to communicate would be largely incomprehensible if not for the lucid text placed on the gallery walls by MOCA's curatorial fellow.
Juana la Loca (Juana the Crazy) features a pair of oversized wooden candy-apple red castanets. One half of the castanets is filled with faux silicone clam meat, and “Juana La Loca” is written on the other half in gold script above slickly painted orange flames. The castanets sit on black and white tiles, which enhance their shiny, commercial appearance. The title of the piece refers to Joanna of Castile, the 16th-century Spanish queen who, legend has it, became insane over the infidelity of her husband, Philip the Handsome. Again, Ruiz-Davila creates an installation that is visually interesting, and references gender and racial symbols and stereotypes; the castanets are reminiscent of a compact or a clam (the compact referencing vanity, mirrors and cosmetics, the clam shape and faux meat, is an allusion to the vagina). The flames and the hot red color of the castanets are a satire of the stereotypical sexually “red-hot” Spanish woman, but the link between this broad commentary and the specific reference to Joanna of Castile is weak. Are viewers to envision her as the archetypical Spanish woman?
The definition of insanity has evolved throughout history, and this, in part, may be what the artist is attempting to examine. But the reference is obscure; without reading the wall text or knowing the history, “Juana La Loca” has little meaning, and this specificity dilutes the more universal iconography inherent in the work. Ruiz-Davila's pop-culture and historical references are not only too peripheral, but they also confuse more discernible symbols and icons. Ultimately, the artist communicates very little to viewers. However, Ruiz-Davila is a skilled at creating stunning, visually compelling installations of well-made objects.
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While the work in Ruiz-Davila's exhibition is overwrought with references and iconography, Kim Eggleston-Kraus's installation at the Sculpture Center, titled Closet Space, is blandly straightforward, overly nostalgic, and lacks critical perspective or engagement. Eggleston-Kraus built a wall with five doors; behind each door she constructed individual closets and filled them with everyday objects. Viewers are invited to rummage through the detritus of the artist's everyday life and to explore the spaces in search of hidden messages and secret doors.
Eggleston-Kraus's closet spaces are reminiscent of those from her childhood and also from her life as an adult artist. As closets they are entirely uninteresting (most people who view the piece probably have more compelling, and certainly less contrived, storage spaces at home); as works of art they are completely lackluster. One of the childhood closet spaces includes the standard stack of board games and a stash of coins from other countries, as well as the requisite box of photographs. Aside from a collection of signed school photos, with their often trite, mildly entertaining sayings and well-wishes for the future, the images are utterly mundane. The artist could have used the photographs to demonstrate the significance of simple, everyday life. Instead, it seems as if she used photographs that were not good enough to make her albums, but not bad enough to throw away.
In her artist statement, Eggleston-Kraus says, “Closets [are] used by both children and adults for things that we don't want found, or that we want to keep safe.” Given the items stored in these closets, it is not clear why she would want to keep any of them safe. One space contains a pile of dreary thrift-store sweaters, another, shelves filled with yarn, wrapping paper, fabric scraps and other miscellaneous items. The objects reveal very little about their owner, nor do they disclose any secrets about her. For this reason, Eggleston-Kraus falls far short of her aim to create unique, clandestine spaces.
The final disappointment of the installation comes in the form of a series of secret doors, which viewers are encouraged to “discover.” Most of the doors open into an empty space behind the closet spaces. There is nothing interesting about the space, as the artist did nothing to make it distinctive; it feels as if you are in an empty gallery space, and you are. The trap door concept works only slightly better when the door opens into another closet space; but, again, there's little payoff to entering another drab space full of generic items.
Cleveland's art scene slows down a bit in the summer, so those seeking visual and intellectual stimulation often have to work a little harder to find it. MOCA and the Sculpture Center are two summer staples; of the two, your best bet for an art fix is the Ruiz-Davila exhibition at MOCA. Just don't forget your glasses, as you'll be reading a lot of wall text.