In less sure hands, New York City’s Museum of Arts and Design’s Dead or Alive, an exhibit of thirty-seven international artists’ work composed of feathers, bones, egg shells, insects, fur, antlers, dried and rotting plants– with a few stuffed birds and animals thrown in– would be a creepy, crawly experience, conceivably sending people packing for the exits. Not so with this exhibition, though. Dead or Alive, conceived by chief curator David Revere McFadden and senior curator Lowery Stokes Sims, assisted by curator Elizabeth Edwards Kirrane, examines beauty in the extreme: living proof, so to speak, that a sow’s ear can, indeed, be made into a silk purse. It is also, despite outward appearances, an intellectual adventure encouraging serious thought on ecology, beauty, violence to humans and animals, and most notably, one’s own mortality. Fine Arts Magazine

Through use of idiosyncratic materials, the attention paid to the oddities of natural history, Dead or Alive, reminds one of a sixteenth century Cabinet of Wonders, for each highly distinctive work of art becomes a microcosm of the world. From videos, to sculptures, to highly crafted installations, it is a virtual sideshow of organic matter made art, some functional, some not. An obsession with numbers seems sometimes to be the artist’s métier. In Eight Thousand Miles of Home (2010) Thailand artist Angus Hutcheson weaves roughly 12,000 silk worm cocoons into a beautiful, overhead cloud-like light fixture and Moon (2006), Tracey Heneberger’s sculptural wall hanging, comprises over a thousand shellacked sardines arranged intricately in a circle. Marc Swanson contributes a glittering pyramid of deer antlers, Untitled (Antler Pile) (2007), covered in thousands of hand-glued crystals, while Flock (2010), Susie MacMurray’s ominous site-specific wall, hidden in a corner of the museum, features tens of thousands of dyed black rooster feathers.

London-based artist Tessa Farmer’s theatrical diorama, Little Savages (2007) is a taxidermied fox – signifying humans – and appears under seige by flying and crawling insects. Dried slugs, silk moth cocoons, and plant roots are attached to its fur, a wasp’s nest hangs from its tail, and a bird eating an insect is perched on its back. We are here faced, “fast forwarding,” as curator Sims notes in the exhibition’s catalog, with “the cycle of nature in terms of death, disposal, and decay.” In On Top of the World (2009) Claire Morgan, also London-based, threads transparent nylon through hundreds of dead Bluebottle flies, to fashion an eerie army of flying creatures in a suspended, geometrically- layered cube. Atop the cube, invisible to all but the uppermost flies, the artist has added a red spider, suggesting the moment when disaster is poised, threatening her orderly state of perfection.

Dutch artist Levi van Veluw is a performance artist as well as sculptor and photographer. At age twenty-five, this youngest artist of the exhibition uses his own head and shoulders as a canvas on which to build natural landscapes (see above). Seaweed and other organic materials become van Veluw’s flora and fauna, as well as stones, tiny plastic animals, trucks, lampposts, and telephone poles – all affixed to his painted face. He creates an entire world, simultaneously becoming part of it. Before “removing his latest face,” the artist, represented here by 3 photographs and a remarkable video featuring a toy train circling his landscaped head, documents each new creation. Cuban-born, Mallorca-based artist Jorge Mayet also uses synthetic materials to recreate nature. In Cayendo Suave (Falling Softly) (2009), the artist chooses simple electrical wires, papier m?ché, and feathers, to form a super-realistic tree. An angel suspended in midair, with a clutch of feathers attached at its roots. It is astonishingly beautiful.

Keith W. Bentley’s Cauda Equina (Horse Tail) (1995-2007) took twelve years to complete and is a labor of love and a eulogy to the thousands of horses slaughtered annually in this country for their meat. Bentley stitched and knotted nearly a million and a half individual hairs from 250 horses into a fabric that was attached to the full-sized taxidermy form of a horse, conjuring up a mourning veil, not unlike those worn by widows during the Victorian era. On the lighter side – but just slightly – is Billie Grace Lynn’s, Mad Cow Motorcycle (2008), in which she has mounted the skeleton of an entire cow over a working motorcycle. At the foot of this “kinetic sculpture” a video shows the artist careening through the streets of Miami while passersby—if not aghast– look on in amusement. Speaking of cows slaughtered to meet human needs, curator McFadden wryly notes in his catalog essay, that “even in death this cow is not allowed to rest in peace.”

Definitely falling on the lighter side, despite the gravity of its subject, is Apothecarium Moderne, a collaborative work of artists Tim Tate, co- founder and director of the Washington Glass School and Studio outside of Washington, DC, and Connecticut- based artist Marc Petrovic. Nine hand-blown glass apothecary jars line a wall, each filled to the brim with talismans offering cures for various maladies, including loss of faith, over-population, ennui, identity theft, and intelligent design. Etched on each jar is a cure- related story. Apothecary #1 Cure for Erectile Dysfunction, one of the more humorous works, features a photo of Betty Page, the iconic 50’s pinup model surrounded by oyster shells, and Enzyte, a natural male enhancement pill. The tale engraved on this jar is the story of little David, who arrives in Manhattan by bus and meets a freakishly tall woman with an Adam’s apple, who takes him to her flat in Spanish Harlem, gets him addicted to Absinthe, and makes him into a man.

One of the most unusual works on view is Alastair Mackie’s Untitled (+/-)  (2009).  Here we are faced with a two-part installation, each piece placed dramatically, for effect, on its own concrete plinth. Resting on the first is a pile of thousands of mouse skeletons – all eaten, digested, and regurgitated by barn owls – collected by the artist over the course of a year. Occupying plinth two is a loom with a piece of fabric woven from mouse fur which the artist separated from these bones. Like much of the work in this exhibition, Mackie’s mouse-centric installation speaks to the relationship of things and events in the endless cycle of life and death. A strong point of this exhibition is the simply- written labels about the artists as well as each work on view. Once we digest the ideas behind each piece, and the process each artist has used to create it—often taken to the nth degree–everything falls into place, naturally, or so it seems.

*As curator Lowery Sims notes in museum’s beautifully appointed catalog, “the work in Dead or Alive might challenge usual and habitual notions of beauty, but artists can extrude beauty from the most base and defiled materials…This maneuvering of a transcendent experience from trash was given a specifically psychological and emotional role in art making by the Surrealists, who linked it with concepts such as “the marvelous” or “convulsive beauty”— both of which were based on the experience of the “uncanny.”1 Of particular interest is what Hal Foster called understanding the “marvelous” as “signal(ing) a rupture in the natural order…challeng(ing)…rational causality…(and) its fascination with magic and alchemy. 2

by Edward Rubin, Contributing Writer

Dead or Alive: Nature becomes Art. At the Museum of Art and Design, through October 24, 2010

1. See Hal Foster, Compulsive Beauty (Cambridge, MA), and London, UK: MIY Press, 1993), 19-56

2. Ibid., 19.

Edward Rubin is a writer-photographer whose writings on theater and art appear regularly in various magazines such as Sculpture, ArtUS, Canadian Art, d’art International, Hispanic Outlook, and NY Arts Magazines, as well as for NY Theatre Wire, and Hi! Drama, a Time Warner cable TV show, based in New York City.