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Art Papers September/October
1991
New York, New York
Michael Aurbach: Final Portraits
Bernice Steinbaum Gallery
Nashville
Tennessee Arts Commission Gallery
Michael Sandle, the noted British sculptor, best known for his series
of thanatoid bronze monuments of Mickey Mouse manning an M-60 machine
gun, once commented to an art critic: "I could accept the idea of death
provided I've got a tomb"--dryly referring to the solace the living derive
from public and private monuments to the dead. Michael Aurbach might well
have taken Sandle's remark as a starting point for his own investigation
into the subject of death. Aurbach has created a group of sculptural installations
over the past few years that cleverly satirizes our culture's traditional
notions of the tomb as a quiet resting place, marked by a stone with banal
designs, set among neatly ordered lawns. In its place his corpus of "Final
Portraits" buries his subjects in a flurry of puns, joking references,
and knowing commentary. Aurbach's humor is of the "black" kind, undermining
the false dignity and conventions surrounding death, coffins, tombstones,
and internment; he exaggerates the stereotypes that accompany socially
constructed identities formed around race, gender, class, sexual preference,
ethnic group, and career choice. By lampooning these constructed identities
in "Final Portraits," Aurbach paradoxically reveals that which makes us
just human, and makes a very subtle plea for the recognition of individual
worth in the face of oblivion.
It should be noted, first of all, that Aurbach is also a highly-talented
craftsman. Many of his pieces display a conception, execution, and finish
bordering on the obsessive, and his pursuit of unusual and obscure materials
seems to know no bounds. I know of few artists, for example, who have
been able to procure genuine parking-meters for a work, or make lavish
use of a marble-patterned formica. His sculptural installations are made
on a scale as would be appropriate for a public monument or a fair-sized
gravesite. And all of them are designed and constructed with materials
connected to the status or job of the subject. Final Portrait: Electrician,
to cite an obvious work is a metal toolbox-shaped coffin, with detailing
made from plugs, sockets, conduit pipe, copper wire, and the like; it
is lined-to "prevent shock"-with black rubber on the inside. With this,
and many other pieces, Aurbach's years of honing workshop skills are clearly
evident, and the results have gravity and presence in a gallery setting.
In several respects, Aurbach's works most closely resemble those of H.C.
Westermann, [he "dean" of the Chicago school of Imagists. Westermann, whose
wood sculptures from the 1950s and 1960s blazed a path for subsequent
artists, also chose the subject of death for many of his important works.
Pig House, his screened-in toy cabin with a plastic pig hanging
from the ceiling, seems like an antecedent for Aurbach, as does the series
"Death Ships," which refers to Westermann's Navy experiences during World
War ll. Westermann's compulsive concern for crafting his objects with utmost
care, his encyclopedic knowledge of woodworking techniec, and his preoccupation
wiith puns and paradox all seem particularly relevant to issues in Aurbach's
pieces.
While it is true that Aurbach concentrates exclusively as a sculptor
on the long-hallowed tradition of vanitas, He seems to be recreating
his own conventions within it. One would have to refer back to the jolly
vitality of Etruscan tomb sculpture to find a similarly irreverent attitude
towards final portraiture. At the Tennessee Arts Commission, Aurbach showed
Final Portrait: Banker. This work resembles a drive-through window at
the local bank. It's complete with a darkened, opaque teller's window,
a plastic vacuum canister (the coffin), fakey neo-classical design (like
all good banks) for the facade, and tasteful, conservative materials (the
aforementioned formica). One presumes this window was only open during
banker's hours! Aurbach has ventured into more controversial territory
as well. His Final Portrait: Gay Person openly flaunts gay stereotypes:
a small closet serves as the coffin. The coffin rests upon an outsized
book of matches (framers) from which a single burnt match protrudes, erection-like.
The closet is also lined with a pink wallpaper that has Tinkerbell and
flower motifs, and this paper is reflected on a mirror mounted on the
closet door--a wry comment on the narcissistic aspects of certain gay subcultures?
I am sure that I missed other subtle references. Final Portrait American
Indian is a room-sized pastiche of some of the ugly misconceptions
projected onto what was, essentially, the original American culture. The
color red pervades here, including a red carpet that rolls up to the coffin.
Pencils made on an Indian reservation line the bier upon which the coffin
rests; the coffin itself is a big pink eraser--signifying the idea of
genocide as erasure. The mastaba-shaped base is painted with a candy-colored
map of the United States, and lined with chalkboard erasers, while two
torches flanking the monument turn out to be outsized pencils with huge
erasers at their tops and bottoms. Within the coffin itself, Aurbach has
placed fragments of doeskin and other animal hides, and makes allusions
to the "happy hunting grounds," although he has added a Mexican-style
blanket with Apache designs as something of a final indignity--this is
where the corpse would repose, on a fictitious bit of tourist wrap made
from polyester and cotton.
While Aurbach has something of the cynicism of Evelyn Waugh's Mr. Joyboy,
he lacks Joyboy's glee over the hollow pieties and sanctimonious lies
of the funeral industry, and he has regard for some of the myths invented
for the deceased. Like Sandle, who casts his modern heroes adrift and
surrounds them with the worthless detritus of modern warfare (weapons,
bombs, sandbags), Aurbach negates the ambitions of traditional monuments.
His catty, witty, even cruel commentaries, filled with obvious and obscure
references alike, provide no final resting place for the dead; what we
are and what we were in this life continues to haunt us in the next--or
so Aurbach seems to imply, embalming it for us as a memento mori.
Like Cindy Sherman, who also satirizes socially-defined roles, Aurbach
reveals the baggage we place on individuals when we classify them by standard
types. He dares us to confront the ultimate absurdity of these types,
showing us our own prejudices carry over unto death. on the negative side,
Aurbach's pieces often suffer from the "one-liner" syndrorne. You get
the joke, you get the piece, nothing further required. It's a flaw which
tends to undermine some of the elaborate craft and conception.
However, Aurbach is probably hardest of all to himself. His own Final
Portrait: Vanitas is a fitting monument to the futility of the artist's
lot in life.
Vanitas consists of the outline of a room, made from steel pipes and joints
painted black. The room is filled with a variety of objects that all refer
to the act of transportation to a final destination: a scale for weighing,
carts for moving, a desk with an in/out box and rubber stamps, a wastebasket
and time-clock for processing, a pathetic water fountain, and a stack of
coffin-shaped crates. The crates are marked "Address Unknown" and "Damaged
Freight." All these objects are literally the stuff of Aurbach's life as
an artist who seeks exhibitions and transports his sculptures from site
to site. Imagine him on the highway in his truck, schlepping his work all
about, passing through ship ping and receiving and storage, journeying to
the end of the road with his ephemeral cargo. All these gerunds are loaded,
of course, according to Aurbach's thinking, with metaphorical import. Taken
in context of life and death, Vanitas is a melancholy testimony to
the absurdity of the whole process of being a "professional artist," emphasized
here by the dull gray that colors every item mentioned above. I suppose
Aurbach would have us laugh, but his sadder, deeper message suggests that
doubt and the constant awareness of mortality is the lonely lot of the ambitious
artist.
Again, Aurbach does not emphasize the heroic or the transcendent with
his monuments. Rather, the comedies and tragedies of our secular life
are portrayed. Aurbach's best work, in my opinion, was not displayed in
any gallery, but bears a mention here. Final Portrait: Handicapped
Person was constructed outdoors on the campus of the University of
Tennessee, Knoxville. The site for the work was enclosed on all four sides
by a white picket fence, denying access. The lot inside the fence was
excavated with a long ramp that was covered in wood planks; the remaining
area inside the fence was excavated with a long rampo that was covereed
in wood planks; the remaining area inside the fence was covered in covered
in Astro-Turf. The ramp was wide enough for a wheelchair and led down
to a small platform at the bottom. On one side of the earthen walls, Aurbach
had attached a stainless steel bar, the same as those found in stalls
in handicapped-access bathrooms. A final insult added to injury? Perhaps,
but then there was one better: the artist related how, after several days
of rain, the hole filled partially with water, presenting a hazard to
the students and other campus visitors. Campus work crews dug a drainage
hole into the bottom to eliminate the waste and stagnant water. Voila!
No unpleasant or unsafe remains. Surely this work was every bit as compelling
as any by minimalist ditch-digger Michael Heizer. Sad to say, the work
no longer exists, since it was filled in once the show ended on the campus--gone,
but not forgotten. But then, Michael Aurbach would have wanted it that
way.
--David Ribar
David Ribar is curator of collections at The Fine Arts Center/Cheekwood
Nashville, Tennessee.
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