Vik Muniz is an artist/philosopher/trickster. In the most appealing way, he plays with your brain as much as he satisfies your eye. He would say that brain-eye interplay is what art is all about, and indeed it is. But he has found ways to force his viewers to consciously assess that duality.
The diverse array of photographs now at the Seattle Asian Art Museum combine sophisticated interpretation of the nature of perception and art with the most accessible, indeed whimsical, images. It's a show of discovery with a surprise around every corner. And each surprise offers a new insight into how we see and interpret reality.
As you walk into the first gallery, there's a sense of familiarity. On one wall are well-known photos, ones you've seen hundreds of times: John-John saluting his father's coffin, a little Vietnamese girl running down the road with her skin falling off after a napalm attack, the flag raising at Iwo Jima.
As you look more closely, you see that they appear to be a bit blurry; then, before long, you realize these aren't those famous photos at all. They are something else. Actually, they are photos that Muniz made of memory drawings. Muniz had bought the photo book "The Best of Life" shortly after he immigrated to the United States from his native Brazil. When he lost the book, he tried to draw his favorite images from memory.
You've been fooled by them. You brought your memory to his photos of memory pictures, making them the real thing. When you first saw them, your brain caused you to see them as something they weren't. Muniz revels in illusions of this sort.
For another project, the artist took a lump of malleable plasticine. He sculpted it into a form that wasn't quite organic but then again not quite geometric. He photographed it. Then he resculpted the form, did it 52 times, photographing each one of its incarnations. Exhibited as "Individuals," the series asks us to consider form and matter, the being of a thing and the thought of the thing.
In another gallery are the Sugar Children. At the beach while on vacation in the Caribbean, Muniz met some joyful children of St. Kitts sugar cane workers. He was charmed by them and dismayed at their parents' weariness and lack of hope. Back in his studio in New York, he created portraits of the children by dribbling sugar on back paper. After photographing these portraits, he scooped up the sugar and put it in a jar.
This is how he works - constructing temporary images that he then turns into permanent works of art by photographing them. All photography captures a moment. Muniz forces us to be aware of ephemeral existence.
Street children from the slums of São Paulo, Brazil, were immortalized in portraits created from the garbage littering the streets of the city after Carnival. In his photographs of the images Muniz made from garbage, the children shimmer against a background of dirt, confetti, colored streamers, bottle caps, tinsel and cheap beads.
In another gallery is Muniz's riff on a famous Hans Namuth photo of Jackson Pollock at work on one of his drip-paint canvases. Muniz has done a riff on that. His photograph is a copy of that image ... made out of chocolate syrup poured onto his canvas.
Youngsters will particularly like the twin Mona Lisa photograph made from peanut butter and jelly, or the Civil War soldier made from plastic toys such as soldiers, wagons, horses, rifles. There are glamorous movie stars created from diamonds on a black background, and horror film stars made from caviar on white background. Remember, none of these "things" actually exist anymore; all we have are their photographs.
Some of the photos are enlargements of very small constructions. Some are miniature representations of huge works. Massive earthworks of such mundane things as a pair of scissors, a pipe, a key were dug into desert landscapes or mining sites and then photographed from a helicopter. They are similar to the prehistoric earthworks of the Mississippian peoples and the pre-Incas of Peru that still puzzle anthropologists. Those people never got to see what the whole of their work looked like. We have photos of the Muniz earth-works taken from on high.
Another project with children was created in a studio in Brazil. Slum children were invited to participate in the project as interns, gaining, in the process, experience that would prepare them for museum work or further study in the arts. The studio was the size of an airplane hangar. Vast amounts of junk were brought to the site where the pieces were arranged on the floor to mimic famous paintings.
My favorite of these is Narcissus gazing at his image in the water. Stand close to the photograph and you can see an abstraction of oil drums, piano, lumber and other garbage. Stand away and Narcissus comes clearly into view. The abstraction has become the realistic representation. Of course, Muniz isn't the only contemporary artist creating large works from smaller building components. Think about Chuck Close. Then remember that newsprint is nothing but a collection of dots. TV and computer screens, even our own bodies, are composed of minuscule building blocks. Contemporary artists like Muniz use such components in their art to force attention to this concept.
There are approximately 100 photographs in this exhibit. They invite you to look and think. You'll laugh. You'll be amazed. This is a show that can appeal to everyone from the art connoisseur to the kid who doesn't even know he could be interested.
'Vik Muniz' continues through Jan. 15, 2007. The Seattle Asian Art Museum, 1400 E. Prospect St., Volunteer Park, 654-3100, is open Tuesday-Sunday, 10 a.m.-5 p.m. and Thursdays until 9 p.m. Suggested admission $5. Free to children 12 and under.
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