Herald Scotland, New artwork to celebrate the life of Govan heroine, 2012

By Elizabeth McMeekin

SHE is known as one of the most influential women in Glasgow in the early 20th century, became the first female Labour councillor in the city and tirelessly campaigned for the working classes.

Friday 9 March 2012

Now Mary Barbour, who lived in Govan in the early 1900s, is to be celebrated in a new artwork which will be created by Glasgow-based artist Sharon Thomas.

Ms Thomas will create the piece based on oral histories she has collected about Mrs Barbour from locals from the Govan area.

Mrs Barbour was instrumental in forming the South Govan Women’s Housing Association and played a key part in the 1915 rent strikes, which saw thousands of women across the city demonstrating about unfair rate increases.

As a result of the rent strikes, Mrs Barbour is also credited with helping to create the Rent Restriction Act, which heralded a change in the housing system of the city.

Ms Thomas held an event yesterday evening, on International Women’s Day, in the Pearce Institute in Govan to find out more about Mrs Barbour’s life. She said: “A lot of histories are passed on orally and so I’m bringing invited locals together to talk about the history of Mary Barbour and with that information I’m going to make an artwork. I’m probably going to make an etching based on her portrait, an edition of 20, one of them will be kept in the Woman’s Library and the rest will be auctioned.”

Mrs Barbour, who had two children, was also Glasgow Corporation’s first woman baillie, a position she held from 1924 until 1927. In 1925 she was appointed chairperson of the Women’s Welfare and Advisory Clinic, Glasgow’s first family planning centre.

Ms Thomas added: “She was a huge figure in the Glasgow area but for some reason in terms of painting and sculpture, in terms of representing Mary Barbour as a huge force in Glasgow, she doesn’t exist, which I just find really bizarre as a painter.

“For young women in Glasgow she could be an amazing figure to look up to, but there’s very little there about her”

International Women’s Day celebrates the life of Mary Barbour, BBC, 8 March 2012

A project celebrating the life and work of Mary Barbour has been launched as part of International Women’s Day.

Barbour was a housewife who roused thousands of women to protest at steep rent increases for living in Glasgow tenements during WWI.

Mary Barbour’s leadership was responsible for a new rent restriction law.

She also became the first female Labour Councillor elected to Glasgow Town Council.

Mary Barbour was born in 1857, the daughter of a Kilbarchan carpet weaver.

When she was 21 she married her husband David and she settled in the Govan Burgh. She joined and became an active member of the Kinning Park Co-operative Guild, the first to be established in Scotland.

The Rent Protests

Mary became a member of the Independent Labour Party and the Socialist Sunday School. But it was the Glasgow rent strike during the first world war that brought her to prominence.

It was in Govan that the first opposition to rent increases appeared. Mary Barbour was instrumental in forming the South Govan Women’s Housing Association.

As a working class housewife with two sons and her husband an engineer in the shipyards, she was involved across its activities from setting up committees to the physical prevention of evictions.

This type of protest was soon seen across the whole of the Clydeside area.

The situation reached a peak on the 17th of November 1915 with one of the largest demonstrations in Glasgow’s history.

Thousands of women marching with thousands of shipyard and engineering workers paraded through the streets of the city to the Glasgow Sheriff’s Court where the demonstration was near riot proportions.

As a result of this action the “Rent Restriction Act” was enacted heralding in a change in Glasgow’s housing system.

The Move into Politics

In 1920 Mary stood as a candidate in a Govan council Ward. She was successfully elected to Glasgow Town Council as its first female Labour Councillor.

She served as Glasgow Corporation’s first woman Baillie from 1924 to 1927 and was appointed as one of the city’s first female magistrates.

In 1925 she was chairperson of the Women’s Welfare and Advisory Clinic, Glasgow’s first family planning centre. Mary worked continuously and energetically to raise funds to support its team of women doctors and nurses.

Mary retired from politics in 1931 but she remained active in the Co-operative Committees. In her later years she organised trips to the seaside for children of the poor.

She died in 1958 at the age of 83.

Sharon Thomas, a Glasgow-based artist is part of the project to document and honour Mary. She will paint gather an aural history of Mary which she will use in an artwork for the Women’s Library.

Tales of Shiney-Shiney Oxford Times Review 2009

Sharon Thomas: Tales of Shiney-Shiney at The North Wall

Wednesday 11th November 2009 By Helen Peacocke

The dry autumn leaves strewn on the floor of the North Wall Gallery, Summertown, have not been blown in by the wind. They are all part of the picture Apotropaic, by Sharon Thomas, which dominates the main wall.

This long charcoal drawing (80cm x 300cm) shows a young woman who is about to encounter a group of crow men, who are relaxing, having removed their beaks, and are totally unaware of her approach, while one, whom she has disturbed as she walks, kneels at her feet.

The landscape, illuminated with shafts of light, is vast; the trees, with their massive roots, are dark and slightly sinister; and the mountain in the distance offers a challenge to anyone who wishes to reach its summit. A peacock, which is the ancient symbol of renewal, dominates the foreground. So what is it all about? What is Sharon trying to say? And why don’t the figures sit easily in the rustic scene in which she has placed them?

Sharon is an artist who is interested in the suspension of belief. She sees art as an uncontrolled area where theories can be played out and is keen to use recognisable references and twist them slightly, as she makes her artistic journey, which she hopes the viewer will share.

Besides the main picture, Sharon is showing several others in her Coffee Morning Series (see picture) which are painted in coffee dregs and pigment. They feature what at first appears to be a pot-bellied man, but could easily be her depiction of a pregnant man carrying a child.

The three circular oil paintings are equally complex and will leave the viewer asking even more questions about Sharon’s artistic journey and the references within her work.

This intriguing exhibition entitled Tales of Shiney-Shiney, continues until November 21, providing us all with time to see it more than once if we don’t understand her message the first time round.

The exhibition is open from Monday to Saturday,. 11am to 4pm. The gallery is in South Parad, Summertown.

Apotropaic: Sharon Thomas at Museet for Religiøs Kunst by Grainne Rice 2009

A Review of by Gráinne Rice

“And wherever you do, whatever you do, there’s always that damp little island called the past…”

Many of the works in the Apotropaic exhibition were developed whilst Sharon Thomas was a Sainsbury Scholar at the British School in Rome (2005-06). As implied by Morrissey’s words (another ex-pat anglo in roman exile), the work in this exhibition is haunted by (rather than dreaming of) a brooding vision of England’s pleasant pastures. Cheshire-born Thomas trained in the Painting Department at Glasgow School of Art in the late 1990s under Sandy Moffat and has a clear regard for the history of her discipline. As eloquently described in Francesco Nevola’s accompanying catalogue essay, Thomas is refreshingly open about the artists who have over time influenced the development of her work listing: the Italian Old Masters; Rubens; Thomas Cole; Richter; fellow GSA alumna Jenny Saville; former tutor Moyna Flanagan; Lisa Yuskavage and John Currin amongst others. Somewhat unusual in it’s breadth and honesty, the essay traces the development of her work and ideas from student days at GSA, to her Masters at the New York Academy of Art and mostly recently in Rome. The common thread that developed during these periods of didactic exile was that of the artist being away from the landscape of her childhood. Travel broadens the mind, and not unlike the effect that participating in the aristocratic tradition of travel of ‘the Grand Tour’ had on the work of British painters such as Richard Wilson and J M W Turner, Thomas’s period away has reinvigorated her approach to Englishness both in content and style.


During her time studying and living in New York she made initial compositions such as New Jerusalem (2004) where the girl-next-door protagonist of her early student paintings is fore-grounded within the magnificent suffused palette of a Dutch-influenced English landscape. In the monumentally-scaled Regina Res Publica (also 2004), the heroine stops to view the landscape astride a bicycle, centrally placed within an elevated, bird’s eye perspective of the vista. Regina stands like the proprietor in a 17th century Siberechts or Knyff painting, a proud huntswoman, the mistress of all she surveys. Regina’s view is not topographic as the Flemish precursors of English country house portraiture would have been. The landscape is an imagined one, formed by Thomas’s experience of rural Cheshire as well as the rich tradition of landscape in the history of painting. Making its first appearance is the abstracted motif of Beeston Castle rising above the idealised, fecund flatlands of the Cheshire plains. The exaggerated aerial or high viewpoint perspective reaches it’s apotheosis in the painting The Parishes (2005), instead of the topographic delineation of landscape of a flourishing economy of Flemish Prospect painting precedents it offers a high viewpoint for the Moulton Crow Man mumming ritual about to be enacted.


Thomas once said in conversation several years ago that she was God in her art and that she controls all that goes on within the picture frame, it’s a world of her making. Thomas’s imagination is spreading beyond the picture frame into the gallery space itself, yearning to control context as well as object. This is evidenced in the Nights at Fairy Hill installation of maquettes and vast unrolled charcoal landscape as part of her 2006 Overlap group exhibition in Rome and the recent 2008 two person Mundane Shell exhibition (with Laurie Figgis) as part of Gi: Glasgow International Festival of Contemporary Visual Art at the Glasgow Print Studio.


Clearly in love with the landscape paintings of Gainsborough, Constable, Samuel Palmer and Blake, Thomas’s work reminds us that the pastoral imagery of the genre is infinitely political. Instead of understanding these vistas as beautiful, passive arcadias, backdrops to religious or mythological narratives, the multiple layers in Thomas’s symbolism encourages a deeper, semiotic reading. The monumental scale of most of these paintings works declares them as competing with the classical and historical precedents.


The castle hill re-appears in later works up to and including the extensive Apotropaic Renaissance-styled cartoon from which the show takes its title. The anthropological etymology of the title of this work, and indeed the whole show, is the most obvious Roman influence that has seeped into the work. The word refers to cultish, popular objects that ward off evil spirits, such as the abstract symbols that were carved onto Suffolk chimney breasts to prevent demons from entering a house or the familiar sinister evil eyes charms that are sold as tourist tut in Greek and Turkish holiday resorts. Thomas employs the characters of Crow Men, inspired by the folk plays of her Cheshire landscape, frequently in the large-scale ‘history’ paintings, as well as in the smaller-scaled Coffee Morning Series (2007-08). The beaks and cones held by Thomas’s priapic male characters, the rude mechanicals of her world, become the apotropes, as they cavort through the English landscape. These props are meant to be so comic as to diffuse the threat of male phallic power. The visual parallels to Commedia Dell’arte’s beaked Il Dottorre character remind the viewer again of the influence of Thomas’s Italian experience. There are also resonances with Hieronymus Bosch’s hellish beaked devils and Paula Rego’s curious Loving Bewick sketch in her Jane Ayre series in which Jane mouth open, is depicted lovingly swallowing a pelican’s beak, literally consuming Bewick’s 1797 book History of British Birds.


Thomas has been rehearsing the dominant themes of this work landscape, masculinity, folklore home-grown mythologies for many years. The castle hill, like the brooding phallus of Glastonbury Tor as it throbbed it’s way through the BBC’s 1986 adaptation of Fay Weldon’s The Life and Loves of a She-Devil, serves as a Lacanian signifier of the phallus or male power. The Morris Dancer in Ridicule (Is Nothing to be Scared of) (2005) prancing across a recently ploughed Constable-esque field holds aloft a hoop cheerfully decorated with ribbons instead of the more familiar ‘sword’ stick. He has been de-nuded of his phallic instrument, the reference to Adam Ant’s early 80’s dandyism a reflection of the showy theatricality of this masculine folk tradition. Fruits of the Forest (2006) images a heavily pregnant man surrounded by a nauseating harvest of ripened fruit and flowers, purple plums in his lap. A reflection of Thomas’s own initiation into motherhood at this time, it revisits the sinister fertility cult of the scenes of colourful pagan rituals of the hugely influential 1970s cult horror film The Wicker Man.


The ‘average joes’ depicted in the series of imaginary portraits, Ripe for the Picking (band of brothers) (2008) and the dirty, beak-swallowing priest of A Birds Eye View#1 and #2 (both 2009) are parodies of contemporary masculinity over which Thomas is asserting her ‘female gaze’. She makes a conscious decision to switch role from watched to watcher. The female characters of the powerful imaginary equestrian portrait, Kate’s Progress (date) and in the Coffee Morning Series of small monochromes (2007-08), become the powerful players, skirting close to the sexually threatening Crow Men lurking in the bushes but ultimately triumphing over the frustrated males. “The Penis only comes to be elided with the phallus because female sexuality is considered a lack in patriarchal order, and the differences between male and female genitals become expressed in terms of the presence or absence of the male term [phallus]” It is the female characters in Thomas’s paintings who hold the attributes of Lacanian phallic power, at once enacting a repudiation of, and reinforcing, sub-Freudian theories of female penis-envy. Thomas’s characters are surrounded by phallic symbols but are not psychologically castrated men, they are the oblivious and heroic protagonists around which the corpulent average joes circulate.

© Grainne Rice 2009


Neo-Maternalism: Contemporary Artists’ Approach to Motherhood, by Sharon Butler, The Brooklyn Rail, 2009

Critical Perspectives on Art, Politics and Culture

Dec 2008/Jan 2009

Ever since the Abstract Expressionists held forth at the Cedar Tavern in the 1950s, the unwritten rule has been that making art is a consuming obsession that leaves no time or space for worldly responsibilities like childrearing. Before the AbExers, an artist like Gaugin left his wife and kids in Denmark to pursue painting in Paris, and later Tahiti. With artists—unlike, say, poets, novelists, or filmmakers—there’s an expectation of an ascetic, blinkered life focused exclusively on making art. Artists with kids have often ignored them while spending all their time in the studio. In Night Studio: A Memoir of Philip Guston, Guston’s daughter Musa Meyer tells the heartbreaking story of a disengaged father who had little room in his life for her. So, why then, closing in on the final years of fertility, with scant investigation or evidence that the outcome would be salutary, did I stop using birth control in 1998 and let fate take its course? My decision was more intellectual than emotional. I reasoned that I was an artist. If I did get pregnant, wouldn’t this primal experience strengthen and inform my work? If I didn’t, then I wouldn’t have any regrets. I rolled the dice, and three months later the pregnancy test was positive.

Catherine Opie, “Self-Portrait/Nursing” (2004). Chromogenic print. 40 × 32 inches.Edition 7/8. Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum, New York. Purchased with funds contributed by the International Director’s Council and Executive Committee Members, 2005. © 2008 Catherine Opie. Courtesy the artist and Regen Projects, CA

Getting Past Denial

The iconic mid-century female artists I admire made different choices. Before the feminist movement, ambitious, pragmatic women like Lee Krasner and Elaine de Kooning rejected motherhood. Louise Nevelson and Grace Hartigan both had children, but ultimately left their upbringing to relatives so that they could turn their undivided attention to making art and tending their vocations. Having a serious career like their male counterparts meant denying their reproductive difference, and also eliminating any references from their work that might be construed as “feminine.” Back then, telling a woman she “had balls” was a high compliment. In art schools, disparaging male professors made it clear that having a successful art career was nearly impossible for women, and that having children was not only a sign of bourgeois conformity, but an indication that they weren’t serious about art. By rejecting and then condemning parenthood, artists themselves helped institutionalize the self-centered, hermetic behavior that is frequently construed as a sign of genius.

As the feminist movement blossomed in the 1970s, female artists gained exhibition opportunities and sexual freedom, but their political awakening only reinforced their disinclination to have children. At the same time, first-wave feminists like Judy Chicago recognized the importance of childbearing as a universal life experience that had been missing from male-dominated, Western art. From 1980 to 1985, Chicago worked on “The Birth Project,” a series of images—made with the help of over 150 skilled craftswomen—in embroidery, needlepoint, crochet, macramé, quilting, drawing, and painting, that reflected her fascination with creation and the birth process. Nevertheless, she never had any children herself.

When I was contemplating whether or not to have a baby, my role models were not Krasner, de Kooning, or Chicago. Instead, I emulated painter Elizabeth Murray and photographer Sally Mann. These artists, rather than compartmentalizing their studio work from their domestic lives, elected to combine the two in groundbreaking ways. Murray had her first child, a son, in 1969, before her work was well known, and her daughters in the eighties when her life was financially more secure. It’s clear from Murray’s paintings that raising children, rather than diminishing her art-making capacity, inspired her. The paintings channel the screaming, fractured energy and frustration that come from being both an artist and a mother, but ultimately transcend specific circumstances to make a more universal statement about life’s challenges and satisfactions that is neither masculine nor feminine.

Mann’s emotionally fraught, and often controversial, photographs of her children, sometimes nude, proved that birth and childrearing do not automatically turn women into retrogressive panderers to small-minded conventions. The images of her children, both moving and disturbing, reference the staid genre of child portraiture but iconoclastically vault into uncharted and arguably forbidden territory.

From Acceptance to Integration

The parenting calculus has changed dramatically. With better childcare support systems in place and fathers who are more actively involved in caring for children, artists are more open to having kids. Often, to be sure, they wait until they’ve had some solo shows, gain gallery representation, and perhaps nail down a tenure-track teaching job. That’s not to say that raising a family is now the unambiguous norm for female artists, or that it carries no costs, real or perceived. Plenty of artists still try to hide the fact that they’re pregnant for as long as possible so that it has minimal impact on their exhibition opportunities. Inevitably there are those who wait too long to conceive, and then find that when the time for procreation is at last convenient, they are no longer fertile.

As Joe Amrhein, owner of Pierogi 2000 in Williamsburg, puts it, time flies when you’re having fun in the studio. Many artists Amrhein knows who were biologically unable to have children have gone through the arduous and expensive process of adopting kids from other countries. Some artists are content with their choice not to breed; others look wistfully back at the missed opportunity. One forty-something childfree printmaker explained that while she and her photographer husband didn’t actually decide not to have children, he was ambivalent, and not wanting to make the decision unilaterally, she let her time slip away.

Regardless of how artists procure their offspring, many keep the art making process rigidly separate from their childrearing responsibilities, and most seem to rely on committed fathers to handle their fair share of the workload. Lisa Sigal, whose work was included in the 2008 Whitney Biennial and who was profiled in the November issue of Art News, maintained her studio after the kids were born, and had her first solo show when the youngest was six. Even before Segal had a gallery, she and her husband, painter Byron Kim, split the childcare responsibility 50/50 so that they got equal time to work. When the kids were young and required so much attention that the 50/50 arrangement was inadequate, rather than taking them to daycare, they devised a babysitting cooperative with neighbors so that each set of parents took all the kids once a week and had the other days to themselves. I asked Sigal what advice she might give to an artist who is wondering whether to have a baby. “If she is interested in having a family, she should do it now,” she said. “Don’t sacrifice having a family for an elusive career that may or may not materialize.”

Carolanna Parlato, who recently had a solo exhibition at Elizabeth Harris Gallery, says she waited until she was reasonably secure financially to have her daughter, but in retrospect wishes she had done so sooner. “I should have had my daughter in my twenties,” she said. “If I had, then she’d be in college already.” Parlato, who had her first solo show when her daughter was two, says she became more purposeful and focused in her work after she was born because her time was limited and her financial needs more urgent. Parlato, like Sigal, relied on friends, family, and neighbors for childcare in the early years.

On the subject of artists with children, dealers tend to fall into two diametric camps: those who have kids and think breeding is a “fantastic experience,” and those who are childless, aren’t really quite sure which of their artists are in fact mothers, and don’t particularly care to discuss it. According to one gallerina, of the seventeen employees in the Chelsea gallery where she works—which is owned by a childfree woman—not a single one has kids. One or two of the artists might have been parents, but she wasn’t sure. This evidence suggests that dealers without children aren’t interested in the process of parenting, and may be less open-minded about artists who are. The upshot is that emerging artists who choose to breed can still be quietly ostracized by childfree galleries, but they’ll be warmly welcomed in child-friendly ones.
The Mother Lode

The accepted wisdom among the first generation of feminist artists who disdained baby-making was that women who reproduce spend at least a year or two making idiosyncratic, excessively inward-looking “baby art” and then, if they are lucky, eventually get their wits about them and return to their previous, more serious work. It’s a condescending view, perhaps, but to my mind more or less valid. Growing a baby from a seed is an inexorably life-altering, eye-opening, intense experience, and always will be. In the first stages, child-rearing is so existentially consuming and preoccupying that it cannot help but suffuse any artwork.

Substantively, baby art could often be too soft and sentimental for leading-edge galleries; it was not talked about and rarely shown in the old days. But there are many subtle and undetectable ways that having a baby can inform an artist’s work beyond the cliché of tender studies of sleeping infants. When my daughter was an infant in 2000, I became obsessed with time. Although a painter, I was determined during that period to make labor-free art. I wanted the work to be as closely integrated with my other daily activities as possible, so I began collecting data about everyday life and creating myriad charts and graphs. My most overt baby art included looping videos that featured my daughter’s daily routine in excruciatingly slow motion. This temporal sensibility, a direct outgrowth of my experience as a mother, still influences my art practice today.

Some contemporary artists, in fiercely honest work, apprehend the entire messy process of creation, birth, and childrearing as raw material for their art practice. Baby art thus often takes the form of site-specific installations and conceptual projects that recall Mary Kelly’s seminal 139-piece Post-Partum Document. From 1973 to 1979, Kelly, one of the early feminists, employed quasi-scientific visual strategies to document her ongoing relationship with her newborn son. In a contemporary context, the complex processes and emotions involved in raising children could certainly provide rich material for practitioners of relational aesthetics with post-studio practices. Such artists’ collaborative, expansive approach to their art, and their reluctance to embrace the hermeticism of previous generations, suggest that peak creativity and the embrace of worldly responsibility are no longer considered mutually exclusive. Raising a family and making art can, in fact, become one seamless activity. One day, an artist may turn a museum into a daycare center, or perhaps create a performance piece in which she invites her cohort for roller-skating play dates in the Guggenheim spiral.

Of course, it would be naïve to contend that nowadays reconciling motherhood and art making is always a smooth and effortless endeavor. But contemporary female artists are more determined than their predecessors to overcome barriers to harmonizing the two aspects of life rather than acquiesce to them. Emerging artist Jennifer Wroblewski, mother of a six-month-old, was originally discouraged when older female artists she knew intimated that her pregnancy would adversely affect her career. Rather than accept the projected consequences of professional indifference and potential dismissal, Wroblewski decided to curate an exhibition tentatively titled “Mother/Mother” that would explore ideas garnered from the process of parenting. With a couple of solo shows in the works and an A.I.R. Gallery Fellowship for support, Wroblewski hopes to turn what used to be seen as the “harbinger of the end of a woman’s career” into a sanguine beginning. The show, which will feature work by Julie Heffernan, Monica Bock, Sharon Thomas, and Dana Lee, is scheduled for Fall 2009.

The most important factor in elevating the status of baby art is that over the past decade or so, artists, including women, are achieving phenomenal success at much younger ages. Many artists now already have considerable traction in the art world by the time they have kids. And when important female artists have babies, their baby art can’t be dismissed by curators and furtively squirreled away in the flatfile. Catherine Opie’s mid-career retrospective at the Guggenheim illuminates this shift. In one photograph, Opie, overweight, naked, and tattooed, nurses her son Oliver. In another, Oliver poses atop a kitchen chair in a tutu. Jenny Saville, one of the renowned “Young British Artists” who ascended in the 1990s and now shows at the high-powered Saatchi and Gagosian galleries, has announced that her upcoming fall exhibition will comprise paintings based on photographs taken while she was giving birth. As the taboo fades, the capacity to bear children and raise a family are now recognized as a source of unplumbed, original material. We’ve come a long way, baby.


About the Author

Sharon Butler is an associate professor of Visual Arts at Eastern Connecticut State University and maintains the art blog Two Coats of Paint.



The Mundane Shell: Sharon Thomas and Laurence Figgis, Glasgow International, 2008

The Mundane Shell
Sharon Thomas & Laurence Figgis
11 April – 10 May 2008
Glasgow Print Studio, Main Gallery
The Mundane Shell is a vast Concave Earth…enlarg’d into Dimension…deform’d into indefinite Space..It is a cavernous Earth of labyrinthine intricacy and finishes where the lark mounts.
William Blake, Milton, 1804

Blake’s poem is the starting point for this exhibition; which, by way of handmade and machine-produced art objects seeks to explore both private subjective languages and external political structures.

Sharon Thomas and Laurence Figgis’ visual story-telling unpicks a metaphorical world tenaciously inter-woven with the fabulous yarns of art history, popular culture and literary tradition.


Risky Business PPOW Press Release August 2006

 August 14 – 18, 2006
Opening: Monday, August 14th

Derek Ayres · Derek Cracco · Luigi Cicala · Michelle Handelman
Claudia Hart · Dana Dale Lee · Margaret Roleke · Rafael Francesco Salas
Suicide Artist ·Sharon Thomas ·Anahita Vossoughi ·Aaron Zimmerman

is pleased to present Risky Business.  Curated by the gallery’s archivist Dana Dale Lee and staged while most of New York’s culturati are on vacation, Risky Business is an art world version of the ’80s Tom Cruise film of the same name. Brief descriptions of the casually assorted contributors to this ‘while-the-parents-are-out-of-town’ art party follow.

Derek Ayres illuminates the beautiful in the potentially destructive by sculpting a life-sized wooden sniper rifle. In a similar, yet converse vein, Anahita Vossoughi reconfigures appropriated images of Guantanamo Bay POW’s into beautiful painted images of ornamental objects. Margaret Roleke’s enormous collage of toy army-men (based on kill numbers from the war in Iraq) results in an arabesque, yet overwhelming abstract image.  Suicide Artist’s red ink-stained work uses a detonative technique to investigate horror and fear.

Exposing what is universal in our vulnerability, Rafael Francisco Salas depicts a lone figure, his mother, in a sublime, psychological portrait. Utilizing religious and pop-culture imagery, Derek Cracco creates slick, resinous collages that question the differences between icons and idols, and their impact. Luigi Cicala paints action figure toys that articulate a Max Beckmann-esque humanism evoking tension and wit.

Sharon Thomas site-specific installations and drawings depict frightening characters in imaginary space to create tension and beauty. Claudia Hart’s video melds technology with sensuality with an animation portraying a virtual woman who gently moves in her sleep yet cycles through sequences of movements like clockwork.

Using photo collage and an exacting illustrative process, Aaron Zimmerman crafts imagery whose perversity is matched by its beauty and political awareness.  Michelle Handelman‘s video and photographs of masked figures lead us on a metaphorical journey whose path is illuminated by fear and amusement. And lastly, artist/curator Dana Dale Lee’s exhibits a violent, humorous and painterly exploration of the known and unknown.

Risky Business will run from August 14th – 18th, 2006. For more information contact Dana at 212 647-1044, or