SPLIT DREAMS

Roberto Juarez



The recent group show Split Dreams included artists from the San Francisco collective
VERN. Terminal One included Tony Brown’s printed contours of enlarged typewriter
cartridges on rough looking plywood screwed to the wall in a long line; Daniel
Rothbart’s elongated metal floor sculpture which looked like handmade space
junk that fell into place with the label incised; and Maria Morganti’s modest
scale paintings on paper with small interesting looking painting detail. Unfortunately,
these paintings were difficult to see because of the lack of light. Along with
other art works, there was a large wall painted green that had vertical pieces
of white cutout paper hanging off of screw supports away from the green wall.
This installation by Chris Natrop was the stand out.

Natrop exhibited a series of four cut paper scrolls against a painted green wall.
The green color is the first thing you see from across the room. The green is
electric but not day-glo, and can be seen from quite a distance. It reminded
me of the green used by the Berlin motorcycle police in their head to toe leather
uniforms. However, it still had the green qualities of nature and spring, something
us New Yorkers need after this lingering winter from hell. The wall had a very
attractive look with out being garish, and enticed me to walk closer.


From a distance,
these delicate and striking compositions looked somewhat traditional like Chinese
scroll paintings or Mexican cut paper boarders. As I approached the wall, these
scrolls morphed into graphic descriptions of unearthly occurrences, and with
closer inspection they become even stranger and more beautiful. The cut-out scrolls
come into equal parts focused and unfocused. Natrop creates from cut paper a
whole new kind of landscape; a world of precision cutting and soft shadows moving
with an ever changing sense of place.


A pastural passage
becomes sharper while whirling into graphic delineated descriptions of meltdowns
and explosions. Tangles of cables contrast the progression of dill plant stems.
I associate the dill plant with walks around the hills of San Francisco. It has
a strong smell that I saw graphically illustrated in this cut paper piece, not
a small feat. Clover and lily pads would seem to describe a frog land. Bubbles
and cattails become the geometry and architecture of boat houses and the new
math of automata. Perfect circles and madly multiplying blossoms become part
of the same progression of form, and the sense of dance and music become part
of the art work.

Again, as I move closer to inspect this evolving sensation, these shadowed worlds
got bigger and softer almost dream like. Not even the attempt to understand how
this was all put together with screws and paper and the position of the lights
could break the magic of the show that takes place. It felt similar to being
in the projectionist booth but still being able to see the film. Enjoyment and
change are in for a ride.