Squares get groovy: Two exhibitions at Exhibit 208 take us beyond science

The two solo shows currently on view at Exhibit 208 are wonderful examples of how artists can invent structures for themselves, then elegantly undo them. Both Lucy Maki and Laurel Wallace start with scientific structures but deconstruct them to create imaginative, poetic worlds.

Lucy Maki

For Maki’s “Shape Shift: New Geometric Paintings and Constructions,” the undoing is already there in the title. “Shape” refers to the shapes Maki paints, as well as the shapes of her paintings — none of which are simple rectangles. “Shift” refers to the fact that these geometric systems get “shifted,” one way or another, in each of her pieces. In “Gnosienne,” a series of rectangular frames — both trompe l’oeil and actual — coil into a counterclockwise spiral; the implied circular motion of the spiral completely disrupting the rectangular structure implied by the frames.

Why do I like art like this — the kind where the artist creates a problem just to solve it? Part of the attraction is what attracted me to secret codes and cryptograms when I was a kid: puzzles are fun. And “fun” is reason enough to like a piece of art.

The French absurdist writer Alfred Jarry (1873–1907), who inspired the Dada and surrealist movements, invented something called “pataphysics,” or the “science of imaginary solutions.” Intended as a parody of science, Jarry’s pataphysics used scientific terminology to visualize impossible phenomena, like perpetual-motion bicycles. Maki’s work, which is similarly playful, could be considered a contemporary extension of pataphysical inquiry. In fact, one of her pieces, “Cat’s Cradle,” was inspired by Kurt Vonnegut’s novel of the same name, which also satirizes science.

Art that’s highly structured and rational often feels empty to me, while art that’s wildly irrational sometimes feels too disconnected from reality. Maki’s work blends structure and anti-structure, rationalism and irrationality, science and whimsy. It is grounded in the realism of mathematical and scientific structures by which we humans measure our universe — from the vast expanses of outer space to the vast subatomic expanses of inner space. But those high school math and science class diagrams that form the basis of her painted constructions get shifted, rotated, destabilized or exploded until the fragments of that textbook order reassemble themselves into impossible structures that still feel uniquely realistic. It’s an encryption process, a making of nonsense from sense.

There are cutaway sculptures of planets and suns. There are grids that get broken and reassembled. There are forms that look like UFOs but which might also be atoms or single-celled organisms. Together, Maki’s shapes, forms and systems exemplify a rational, scientific view of the universe. But she messes with those rational systems by introducing other systems to deconstruct them from within.

What does it mean? That our universe is not as orderly as it seems? That every order can be subverted and a new one built from its ruins? Or that we ourselves are too orderly, too rigid in our thinking? Maybe we need more whimsy in our lives.

There is determined whimsy in Maki’s self-deconstructing shapes. And there’s whimsy in her mint blue and atomic yellow palette — the colors of mid-20th century Cold War suburbia — which she often pairs with jazzy wallpaper textures. Things that are rigid and serious get wobbly and silly. Squares get groovy.

Laurel Wallace

Wallace has been collecting dirt samples across New Mexico since 1981 — first, as a U.S. Forest Service archaeologist, then later as an artist. The dirt ranges in color from orange to dark gray to chalky white, and for each “Earth Elements” piece in the current show, she pairs a square of dirt from a specific collection site with a square-shaped resin painting containing said dirt. The resin paintings include additional colors, such as metallic blue, vegetal green, and fleshy pink and tan. Each stacked diptych looks like the “before” and “after” panels of a chemistry experiment: reactant versus product, chemical isolate versus chemical synthesis.

In reality, the work is not nearly as scientific as it looks. Like a lot of serial and process-based art that came out of minimalism, Wallace’s work mimics the scientific method but with no clear hypotheses or conclusions. She arranges her soil samples by color within a formal grid, but she’s not actually testing the soil in a systematic way. It’s art, not science. Her resin paintings incorporate happy accidents, like Helen Frankenthaler’s stain paintings or the watercolors John Cage made using chance operations. As in those examples, there’s a certain experimental or “sciencey” aspect to putting different materials together and seeing what they do, but it’s definitely not an exact science.

Like Jarry’s experiments in pataphysics, Wallace’s “Earth Elements” put the aesthetics and procedures of science in the service of poetics. When we look at the soil samples, we think about the earth itself — the ground beneath our feet — and all the deserts and forest trails we’ve ever trod on. When we see the same soil incorporated into flowing, swirling, expressive resin paintings, we think of cloudscapes, moonscapes, rivers, sunsets and even our own bodies — figurative associations that are as limitless as the human imagination. Whereas science tries to determine what is, Wallace’s art points to what could be. The most mundane thing in the world — dirt — becomes a field of infinite play and infinite transformation.

Both Maki and Wallace use the aesthetics of science to deconstruct scientific structures. One possible criticism of this kind of art, which applies to Jarry’s pataphysics, as well, is that it serves no purpose. A practical-minded person might consider it a complete waste of time to dream up imaginary solutions to nonexistent problems. But the more practical-minded we are, the more we need art like this, I believe. Art that engages our logical, analytical side only to befuddle and short-circuit that logic helps free us from overly rigid habits of thinking. So, take the plunge. Go see these shows, puzzle through them on your own, and see what flights of fancy they inspire.

Logan Royce Beitmen is an arts writer for the Albuquerque Journal. He covers visual art, music, fashion, theater and more. Reach him at lbeitmen@abqjournal.com or on Instagram at @loganroycebeitmen.