 |
Photo By Wendy Uhlman
|
Steve Zieverink and Lou Larson’s kinetic sound
sculpture.
|
Inside a Camp Washington building, artist Steve Zieverink, 26, and musician Lou Larson, 35, are standing in a large room that usually houses artist studios. The mess and clutter have been removed. The result is a stark gallery space known as Unit 2, home to a rotating series of exhibitions and performances.
Earlier this year, Zieverink collaborated with Larson on a series of kinetic sound sculptures. Their installation was the focal point of Unit 2's show on Nov. 3.
The art world has been in this Massachusetts Avenue building for some time. The studio/office for Mark Fox and Saw Theater is located upstairs. DiLeia, a contemporary art gallery, had previously called the space home.
Still, there are key moments that symbolize a neighborhood's cultural transformation. For Camp Washington, Nov. 3 was one of those moments.
Unit 2 brings an artistic vitality to Massachusetts Avenue that's as relevant as anything at the local art museums. Zieverink, the creative force behind Unit 2, has also become something of a leader to young local artists.
There's nothing simple or geometric about Zieverink and Larson's installation. At its core, the piece is comprised of three sculptures suspended from the room's ceiling. Each sculpture contains a glass beaker connected to the metal frames by a long tube wrapped in pigskin and cow intestines.
The beakers are hand-blown, with goatskin providing a drumlike bottom. Small balls are placed inside each beaker. Sound processors and motorized pulleys bounce the balls in synchronized fashion.
The rhythmic tempo of the bouncing balls creates a mood of contemplation around Zieverink and Larson's unnamed piece. The installation is dynamic in its sounds and movement. The sculptures have a sense for the industrial space in which they hang. While they're closer in spirit to museum art than any raw, street aesthetic, there's nothing polished about the installation.
The mixture of metal, glass and animal fat is intentionally cluttered. The pieces of pigskin give the installation the added element of flesh.
It's clear that the sculptures' irregularities are intentional. Zieverink and Larson have made something in the spirit of a child rummaging through his father's workbench. The piece is beautifully cluttered. It's a wonderful complement to Zieverink's flat paintings hung elsewhere in the room.
The sculptures are real, natural and moving. They move and make sounds. You want to reach out and grasp the metal frames. Suspended from the ceiling, the artwork is within easy reach. Yet the drumlike thump of the bouncing balls keeps you at a distance.
Later, at an Over-the-Rhine coffeehouse, Zieverink and Larson make one thing clear: They're not about dumb art.
"This piece is about man's relationship to the universe and to other men," Larson says, speaking enthusiastically.
Some critics will say Unit 2 is made vulnerable because of its focus on "emerging artists." But Zieverink and Larson's installation rises above youth and fashion. It's dazzling work worthy of attention.
Zieverink and Larson are already planning their next piece, and the cultural momentum in Camp Washington continues this week with a new Unit 2 exhibition. Talk about the neighborhood's gentrification into a full-fledged arts district can come later.
