Fruit…village?

courtesy of Douglas Witmer

Douglas Witmer’s ongoing wall work, entitled Fruitville, might just as well reference a people, as reference a place: for people, at least as far as villages go, make the place, no? Indeed Fruitville’s  persistent – indeed, insistent – individuality as fully-realized, miniature artworks makes it more reminiscent of the unique, one-off nature of people, rather than domiciles or stores, which are more variations upon a theme. In fact, their arrangement, a loosely-milling group, akin to a crowd at a carnival or a shopping mall, is far more characteristic of how we arrange ourselves, rather than our dwellings, shops and shelters. Our buildings often tend to follow lines: straight, curving, intersecting, but orderly lines nonetheless. Despite anthropological protests, lines are not natural to our self-arrangement as humans: they are imposed, rather than innate. This may tell us something about why this series has the name of a village: because it has, if not the direct form of one, the nature of one: more freewheeling, organic and adaptive than a neat-as-a-pin, Lancaster County hamlet might let on. A village was, in its earliest forms, a mutually-beneficial arrangement: for protection and safety; amiability and cohabitation; close-to-hand resources. Whether or not Fruitville is intended as this kind of place – tending towards this looser model – is not entirely the point, but nonetheless, it is more characteristic of a system which is tipped still towards the individual’s strength within a group; the unique shape; the singular contemplating the possibility – the utility – of the corporate.

And it’s not unusual that a gallery (AxD gallery, associated with Always by Design) run by an architectural firm might have been smitten with the whimsical structures of Fruitville. They are, after all, highly reminiscent of dashed-off sketches by architects of basic shapes, edges, lines and blocks of color, groping towards a more realized structure...except these Fruitville objects have maintained the immediacy of the initial, aha-sketches. And of course, architects make their own small – but more realized – models, taking those sketches to the next level of definition. But beneath this fairly neat parallel, one must not forget why the vast majority of architecture happens: it’s to form otherwise undefined space to a particular function – a human function. What, therefore, is more human than architecture? What is more architectural than human intent finding expression in livable artifice? Fruitville is, along with being thoroughly delightful, a serious-minded and ongoing commentary on human artifice through our building(s)…despite itself…ourselves.

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Brief: Douglas Witmer at Blank Space, NYC

    Installation shot of Ring the Bells Anew    

    (Images below; top, A Trace of Something I Want to Feel Again; bottom, We'll Get Away With It.)

Douglas Witmer at Blank Space, NY

A pair of paintings in Ring the Bells Anew arrested my attention quickly upon turning the corner: A Trace of Something I Want to Feel Again and We’ll get Away with It. It was an impulse for which I couldn’t find a reason (not that it was completely necessary to)…until I spoke briefly with Douglas Witmer about them, and found out that they had two related common denominators. They were the same size canvas, and that particular ratio was a new one for Witmer. That said, they fit nicely into my resonation with the show’s title: Witmer is ringing a very old bell, but the tintinnabulum never grows old: in fact, the results feel as fresh as does every toll from a bell tower greeting a new day. The possibilities continue.

The delicately strong voice of A Trace… pulled at me first – a large, soft monolith the hue of a Japanese anemone…or who knows; perhaps the evanescence of peonies in May. Regardless, it was flowery in the best sense; an exquisite waterfall of delicately scented orchid that one keeps near so as to prolong its effect. Which brings me to the second of several strong (and strengthening) components of Witmer’s work: the activity occurring “behind” those soft monoliths – dripping; spreading; fading in and out – playing with the memories we are beginning to fall into within the frontal colors. It keeps us engaged; on our toes; keeps us from losing ourselves in our personal, nostalgic response to the dominant colored blocks.

A third strength is the vastly differing movements of the brushstrokes in the frontal colors – up; down; back and forth – all with their own particular evocations of emotion or memorial. Cascades – green, orange, red, light yellow – or strata lain like bricks. All this is really only noticeable upon long perusal – but that is crucial anyway, to really absorbing these pieces. That said, the intelligent and harmonious hang did remind me that Witmer’s work rewards varying levels of looks. Like a bold landscape, they can be enjoyed both very quickly – like a drive-by from a window (a quality I associate with Blinky Palermo – a promenade of flags), or painstakingly slow, pulled apart as a 
portraitist might separate his sitter into individual components, and then reassemble them according to a new system. Regardless, Ring the Bells Anew will remind you of something which you treasure, and still shower with an affection long fostered. 


Blank Space Art

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