I am certainly biased, but there is something great about a solo show that could be mistaken for a group exhibition. Rather than offering a one trick pony collection of ho-hum iterations, such shows present a network of varied artistic production that can, when successful, weave a spell far more complex than the standard frontal assault. Admittedly such shows are risky, and can fail disastrously if they are too disparate to gel. Also, the lack of redundancy in such exhibitions requires more precise and patient attention from viewers. However, if the show is good, the investment is usually worthwhile. Figure Below, Nickolas Mohanna's solo show at Eleanor Harwood, is one such exhibition that I found worth the effort.

installation view

The show consists alternately of three works or twenty-two, depending on how you count the large grid of framed works on paper. Each of the 20 mid-size ink and watercolor drawings employs a varied language of striated accretions akin to morphed sedimentary rock. Their double-row-of-ten hanging reinforces their layered logic and introduces a horizontality that tugs against each individual work's portrait orientation. Counterbalancing the gravitational heft of the works lithic structure is the fluid openness of Mohanna's inky textures and the tranquility of his line work. The interplay of mass and lightness within the work is reinforced externally by the tension between the stolid grid formation and delicate white wooden frames.


U

To the left of the grid, Mohanna's 2nd/21st work, titled U, "leans" against the wall. I say it "leans" because, while it stands angled against the sheetrock like a John McCracken plank, the weight of the triangularish protrusion, bulging from its center, pulls it forward into space, so much so that it needs to be screwed to the wall to keep it from falling. It is constructed from stacked plywood layers that, if you turn your head to one side, look a bit like a pyramid or anthill. The profile of this mass has been ground and sanded into a surface that looks more weathered than fabricated. On its tip a small rectangular mirror glints. The piece would look innocuous if casually tucked away somewhere in a workshop, but standing in the gallery it has a deliberate and austere presence. Its layered and eroded form wonderfully employs a geologic logic similar to the neighboring grid. However, its potency derives largely from its awkward leaning/pulling relationship with the wall. The tipped orientation of the work wonderfully negates the stratified weight of its layered construction, like a cartoon mountain being picked up and looked under. The dumb honesty of screwing the thing to the wall deflates any slickness, while simultaneously making present and palpable the work's tragicomic desire to go crashing into the room.

During the opening the work included a projector that, as Mohanna describes it, shot "a condensed 16mm transferred to video onto the center of the 3x2 square/mirror, which then produced feedback onto the ceiling." Though I never saw it installed with the video, I conceptually like the additional layering of the projected film and reflection displaced feedback. Knowing about its earlier media enriched existence complicates my appreciation of its current state, which is sufficient and substantial on its own.


Ground Cloud & video still from Ground Cloud

The final work in the show, and the largest, Ground Cloud, fills the space between wall and floor along one side of the gallery. A thigh high rectilinear mass, it hulks menacingly in the corner. Its surface, which looks to be sheets of mud-encrusted steel, like those used to cover road work in progress, is punctured along its front by two pyramidal arrangements of small rectangular openings, and in its top by an opening for the screen of a monitor. The punctures reveal little of the interior and the inset monitor screen, wreathed in black trash bags, displays a looping video. The structure of the videos swirling inky images seems related to the ink markings of the works on paper hanging opposite, but are more fluid and watery. The placement of the monitor is awkwardly near the gallery entrance and I had to stand nearly in the doorway to watch it, but I very much liked the odd earth-clad feel of it. The barely audible sounds coming from inside it intrigued me as did the faint light seeping out from the holey pyramids. I learned later from Mohanna that I should have stood on the Ground Cloud. The sounds on the loop within it are in large part sub audio frequencies that resonate the box and occasionally shake the debris on top. Standing on top of the box I would have felt the vibrations, and not have had to stand in the doorway to see the video. I also learned from Mohanna that at the opening sound artist Jim Haynes played on and with Ground Cloud using instruments and contact mics that he dragged over the work's surface.

L: That Hath A Core And Not A Code C: Exiting From A Flue R: Tephra Fill

Though lukewarm on openings, I wish that I had made it to Figure Below's inaugural night. Much as I like U the way it is, seeing it with its mirrored projection would have been nice. Similarly I would have liked to see Ground Cloud function as both stage and instrument. Regret aside, there is another part of me that is glad that my encounter with this work was in the quiet restive space of an empty gallery because much of what I like most about these pieces would have been lost in the hubbub of an opening soirée. While it is a little frustrating that the work that I encountered in the gallery and the work that was at the opening are so different, the fact that these pieces adapted to thrive in both mayhem and stillness is admirable. Admittedly, the density of such multivalent work can be difficult to unravel, but being easy is not always a virtue. In a landscape saturated with so much soft-serve ice cream it is refreshing that Mohanna's work requires mastication. Whether what you get after you have chewed and digested it is worth the effort, is up to you.

Figure Below will be on view at Eleanor Harwood through May 9, 2008.