Getting ‘Fluffy’ at Real Tinsel

All told, the exhibit contains the beginnings of ideas that have the potential to propel individual careers and aesthetic exploration forward.

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Real Tinsel (1013 W. Historic Mitchell St.) hosts some of the more progressive exhibitions in Milwaukee, unafraid to take chances on emerging artists and curators whose execution does not neatly fit into more visible galleries. The eight artists in the current show—Cristina Covucci, Karla Zurita, Chloé Wilcox, Marta Lee, Loretta Violante, Karissa Kendricks, Izzy Casey and Andrea Emmerich—have each contributed a painting or a sculpture loosely cohered around a domestic animal theme. The resulting exhibition, “Fluffy” curated by Rachel Yanku, supposedly explores cuteness aggression, technology and human-animal relationships. 

I must have read the exhibition text three or four times after seeing the show, and I still could not draw a clear through-line between the exhibited works convincing enough to translate it into an art review. Each individual piece is steeped in the artist’s own style—so much so that the theme feels strained and the connections between each work of art over-conceptualized. I circled the room many times, attempting to land on solid ground, but the puzzle proved not so easy to assemble. Instead, I found select pieces worth studying at length without paying mind to the convoluted text that accompanied this curatorial vision.

Christina Covucci has selected two works for this group show, a sculpture and a work on paper. The drawing is of a dog’s belly, which is abstracted enough to become a textured composition employing strokes of mixed pressure and activity. Like the real thing, each hair makes a stiff turn in one direction, creating a grain familiar to anyone who has pet a short haired dog on the tummy. It becomes a landscape on the gridded paper, a geographical survey of the terrain where human love meets animal loyalty. Abstracted just enough not to lose familiarity, it is a tender drawing executed with focus. There is a direction in this work that bodes well for the artist. If Covucci can push this even further, I look forward to more from the studio. 

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Motion Sensors

Karla Zurita’s Walker is the first thing you hear when you enter the gallery. An animatronic cardinal with motion sensors—one of those cheap polyester imitations you find in museum gift shops—sits perched atop a disassembled walker as if to claim the broken structure for himself. The walker takes up space in an interesting way, kind of balancing on three points, appearing warped and unnatural. 

You may not realize the artist cast these metal components instead of using a readymade object, which creates an upset in the visual balance of the sculpture yet lends credibility to the artist’s craft. This is one of two bird-and-walker sculptures (the other is in the basement, the bird is a bluejay) that is saying something about aging and technology, but it is difficult to untangle a more poignant meaning from this simple execution. Such is the downfall of overly conceptual sculptures. 

Zurita’s Get Well Soon is a little more cohesive, pairing a PARO robotic seal with a busy bright yellow “get well soon” card and two leather extensions that vaguely resemble flippers. This poses a more interesting question regarding how robotic assistants have made inroads into elder care, and what it means for society to age in a culture that pushes elders out of the public and into the realm of private, increasingly outsourced, duty. 

Fabricated Scenarios

I spent a long time trying to grasp Chloe Wilcox’s Closer II, a sculpture in the west window whose title and list of materials provides no additional clues as to its raison d'être. A female figure leans slightly forward, cut off at the knees, one hand on a hip and the other pointing out to scold a ropey mass on the floor that appears to be—barking?—back at her outstretched finger. She is plastered with images of what appears to be grapes and assorted mâché in coppery greens and printer paper whites. The figure wears a banged black wig that falls to her shoulders. Wilcox’s materials include inkjet prints, glue, wig, mops, plaster, corn, and Flex Seal. It is a piece so ungrounded in its own reality that I cannot offer much in the way of an interpretation—only say that I looked at it for a long time and fabricated scenarios in my head about what the heck was going on. 

All told, “Fluffy” contains the beginnings of ideas that have the potential to propel individual careers and aesthetic exploration forward. The biggest takeaway from the show is a sense that these artists have energy and drive that is still churning in a way that makes coherence in a themed group show difficult to nail into place. Maybe remember their names, though. Some big careers might yet emerge from this eclectic selection.