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Design meets art in Gregg Fleishman's
work, and decidedly in that
order. Presenting these collapsable chairs in a gallery
environment, rather than a design showroom, gives us license
to
consider first their visual properties then their structural
aspects.
What has earned the chairs their
notoreity is that their seeming
flimsiness and lowbrow plywood material are an illusion. The
plywood is actually a high quality birchwood product of Finland.
The squiggly lines that you settle onto allow for a comfortable
give
that threatens neither to break nor tip over. When we think of
a
chair we expect clear planes of material that clarify that there
is
a volume of space able to provide unyielding support when
occupied. Lots of light and air playing through volumes that
constantly break open do not, at first, inspire confidence. So
the
true believers who use the products become insiders to a good
natured conspiracy. The joke is on the outsider who sees but
doesn't get it, who could sit with comfort but dares not. But
wait,
the clever joke extends further still.
Think about how a well appointed
room will include both fine
furniture and fine art. As we all know in the art world, fine
art
stands on its own; taking room decor into account runs counter
to
the ethos of art.
But what if the furniture IS
the art? I don't mean the way, for
example, Sam Maloof is able to bring just the right shape and
curve to an exquisitely formed rocking chair. I mean, what if
you
can take the chair that sits out there in the room and hang it
right
up on the wall? And it never occurs to your guests that what
they
are looking at is a chair at all. . .
That's what this show is about.
It includes you in on part of the
joke even if you never get around to taking a seat.
Since Fleishman's chairs are
built out of flat sheets of wood--the
component parts are screwed and latched together to result in
the
functional object--they may always be returned to the flatness
of,
well, a picture plane. No tools needed. See that nice picture
next to
the Alicia chair? Turns out that's another Alicia chair. Ready
for storage. Or display.
The playfulness of what these
pictures look like is in sync with the
playful illusion that belies the chairs' ability to function
as
chairs. Lumberest has the appearance of an oversized cockroach.
Six skinny little legs support a tank-like body. The charming
monster even sports a pair of antenna. The back and seat support
elements that make up the creature's innards evoke a diagram
of
internal organs and intestines. The machine-honed precision of
the
details, however, make the overall effect more cool than yuk.
The organic character of the
chairs as images may or may not be
fortuitous, but it does come up again and again. Surround conveys
the functional shapes of the chair, but the beak and finger-like
hooks at the tips of the slightly curved slats, together with
the hot
yellow monochrome, set the whole on fire. Leg supports at either
lower corner, and the lines cut into the circular seat area readily
morph into a smiling bust signaling thumbs up. It's all very
affirmative, and quite loopy. Go back to Alicia now and you can
see the big-eyed kid with an afro staring back.
Once we get past the intital
skepticism--Do these chairs really work?
Can I take an image seriously that is, uh, a folded chair?
--Fleishman really just wants us to be able to get comfy and
have
some fun. It's slick stuff and tricky to pull off, but what makes
the
visit worthwhile is that it doesn't get all pretentious or start
lecturing us
about Art.
By Bill Lazarow BACK TO BIOGRAPHY
OR SEE www.robertbermangallery.com
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