Exhibitionism
Fri., Nov. 20, 1998
60TH ANNUAL ART FACULTY EXHIBITION: A WHO'S WHO ... BUT FOR WHOM?
Jack S. Blanton Museum of Art
Art Building, UT campus
through December 6
Dressed-up little kids strain to touch the big blue-green plastic loungers of Kate Caterall. High-heeled ladies stumble trying to get around Ericson & Ziegler's installation piece, a long row of toy dump trucks that runs through the center of the gallery. Men sip from plastic cups and nod, while herds of hipster art students run into each other and go outside to smoke. The wine and perfume-steeped opening of this, the 60th Annual Art Faculty Exhibition, served its traditional function as the night of the teachers. An annual role reversal in which the graders, criticizers, and mentors are put on display, the event provides students with the opportunity both to scope out the work of would-be professors and engage in a kind of show-and-tell. Students turn to their friends and say, "Now that's what I was talking about" (i.e., "This professor is God's gift to painting" or, alternately, "I told you this guy was a hack"). A popular and prestigious event for the faculty, the show nevertheless lacks crossover appeal. For anyone out of the loop, the show feels less like an exhibit of talent and more like someone else's inside joke.
To be sure, some of Austin's most popular and famous artists are represented. Work runs the gamut from Michael Ray Charles' stereotype-exploiting prints to Kate Breakey's elegant hand-colored still lifes of fruit; from Peter Saul's cartoonish, late-Eighties Somebody Else to Vincent Mariani's holographic constructions. On one hand, the variety of the show makes for a kind of artistic peaceable kingdom. Relatively famous artists such as Saul are shown alongside visual studies teaching assistants. One half-expects to see deer and tigers frolicking together as Lawrence McFarland's Kansas landscape photos co-exist with Timothy High's disturbing Crossroads print. Where but in an earthly paradise could the work of studio artists hang side by side with that of art education professors? The down side of the idyll, however, is that the show is crowded, uneven, and tediously random. Whereas students in the department might be fascinated by what their teachers are doing, the show's raison d'être evaporates for the general public. The sampler layout creates a hodgepodge of genres such that going around the space is dizzying. As a representation of "who's who at UT" it's of interest, but of course the question "Who's at UT?" yields a predictable answer, i.e., some people who do this kind of thing, some people who do that kind of thing, and so forth.
If, on the other hand, you're affiliated with the UT art department, it's a whole different ball game, possibly the equivalent of a high school faculty talent show. The homeroom teacher's rendition of "Que Sera Sera" is painful amateur singing to an outsider, but for her pet student (or certainly for someone she recently failed), the event is the epitome of entertainment. Eavesdropping on gossiping art students gives the exhibition a sense of purpose, as the inside information is what makes this show worthwhile. Which painting, for example, is five years in the making and still not done? Which professor got into trouble with the administration for purportedly making anti-homosexual remarks in his syllabus? Which professor is a UFO fanatic? These are the questions this show is designed to provoke and they're interesting questions; they're just not interesting to anyone who can't answer them. -- Ada Calhoun
MISALLIANCE: THE HEART OF THE MATTER
B. Iden Payne Theatre,
through November 21
Running Time: 2 hrs, 45 min
Between the death of Queen Victoria and Britain's entrance into the Great War in 1914 lies a period of tumultuous modernization among the English classes. To the unobservant eye, the social status quo carries on stoically with its moth-eaten aristocrats, know-it-all, well-to-do merchant classmen, and bookkeepers and clerks who prop up their betters' capitalist empires; its wives and daughters at their interminable needlepoint; and its brash, confident sons standing ready to inherit their fathers' titles and positions. But modern upheaval affects more than one's titular place at the table; this is a modernity that creeps into the daily fabric of English life, creating an open dialogue encompassing sex, politics, duty, intellect. All parties share the same space -- as not-so-comfortable equals. At the least, they share a newfound freedom to express their thoughts and beliefs, and they give vent to volume upon volume upon passionate volume of said expression.
Welcome to the world of George Bernard Shaw, where men are weak, women are emancipated, and talk is never cheap -- but, boy, is there a lot of it. Every character has his or her opportunity to vent opinion, proclaim belief, or espouse idea, and each gets a full say. But all this talk is highly entertaining in the UT Theatre & Dance Department production of Shaw's Misalliance, neatly directed by Lucien Douglas with a cast of gifted professionals and students. The ensemble's work is strong, deliberate, and funny. And even the pedantic Shaw recognizes his penchant for verbal indulgence, including self-deprecatory jabs at his own wordiness.
Hanging about the splendid morning room of John Tarleton's manor house in Surrey are Tarleton's son, daughter, wife, and their crusty, aristocratic neighbors, Lord Summerhays and his son Bentley. In this modern England, Lord S. takes a patient, servile role to the clan Tarleton. John Tarleton, Senior, a self-made man (couldn't help it, no matter how hard he tried) whose riches rest on his underwear empire, finds family burdensome, offspring uncaring. So it comes as no small surprise that Tarleton senior takes a fancy to young Bentley, and is permitting him the hand of his daughter, Hypatia, in marriage.
But we're in unknown territory, a modern maelstrom, and nothing is as it was. It's as if the ideas of the past have been thrown into the air and land with abandon on whomever they please. In Shaw's play, change certainly lands with abandon on Mr. Tarleton's greenhouse, and to humorous effect. The outcome of Hypatia's betrothal to the nerdish Bentley is always in doubt, and getting through the shenanigans and orations makes for a solid evening of theatre.
It is the women, free-spirited and fresh, who drive the action of the play. The idea-spouting men are dusty old relics (yes, even the boys) when compared to the vibrant Hypatia or the unexpected arrival, Miss Lina Szczepanowska. Hypatia, played vivaciously by Jennifer Don, desperately seeks any relief from the drudgery of the mating rituals of the upper classes. Downed pilot Joseph Percival could offer just such relief, if only she can get him to chase her. The always fabulous Sharron Bower is the mysterious Lina, a beautiful foreign daredevil and the fulcrum on which Shaw's characters shift from their stodgy existence into that new modernity. Even Beryl Knifton's Mrs. Tarleton takes nifty control of the situation at the climax: Victorian no more -- she's in charge now, m'lord.
Equity actors Thomas C. Parker as Lord Summerhays and Ev Lunning Jr. as John Tarleton are, indeed, quite professional. Parker's understated, sexually over-vexed lord is more grounded than Lunning's underwear king: a robust thinking man's thinking man who can't keep still, quoting chapter and verse of most (if not all) of the great, and not-so-great, books.
As the uptight, vengeful clerk Julius Baker, Matthew Kyle Gearhart is terrific, taking his turn with Shavian fire and pathos. Spying on the recalcitrant Hypatia as she pursues the reluctant Percival, Gearhart steals the scene. If his hat-kicking schtick is a little telegraphed, so is most of the physical humor in the play.
The one actor who consistently maintains that near-burlesque physicality to his character is Michael Ringler, tremendous as the geekish 90-lb. weakling Bentley Summerhays. Given to pouting and fits of hysteria, Ringler's Bentley is every part the modern lordling-to-be, a prototypical, sniveling Prince Charles.
The Department of Theatre & Dance has created another entertaining, technically proficient show. One expects The Department, with its deep pockets and depth of talent, to come through, but Torsten Louis' sets and Kathleen Lussier's costumes exceed expectations, so full are they of detail and small creative flourishes: Bentley's near-foppish striped suit and oversized bow tie are fitting garments for the overly bright crybaby. When the curtain rose, awestruck gasps greeted Louis' towering set.
Shaw was ever the social debater, loading his works with speech upon speech exploring every nuance of political issues. Fortunately, Misalliance may have the sheen of political discourse, but the heart of the matter is, well, the heart. And clearly this production has heart in spades.-- Robi Polgar
