Page 291

Kent Rogowski’s photographic work marks the third show this year at Foley Gallery that appears to encourage a distinctly consumerist view of pictures.

That’s not a bad thing. The purpose of galleries, lest we all forget, is to persuade enthusiasts to purchase art–even art that sells itself as a critique of capitalism. Rugowski’s show makes no such claims. The New-York-based photographer has taken a number of children’s teddy bears and, with a sly wink that verges on cuteness, turned them inside out. In the process of performing this feat literally, the artist is also hoping to enact its metaphorical equivalent, probing the inner depths of the universally beloved figure of the teddy bear and, by extension, the idealized phase of life that it belongs to: childhood.

Image ©Kent Rogowski

In that respect, the work is not particularly successful. Most of these bears retain all the cuteness of a normal stuffed animal, with an added charisma from the seams and loose ends that give them a well-loved, Velveteen Rabbit look. They seem to demonstrate that the seamy (ha!) side of childhood is pretty adorable after all.

What’s more interesting is the overwhelming sensation that I felt while walking around the gallery: I felt like I was shopping. The picture of each animal, like the originals, retains a unique personality, and I felt it was my duty to pick one to associate with or to take home to someone I know. The fact that Rogowski deprives the bears of context–he photographs them against a white background–only enhances this focus on each bear as a purchasable personality.

It got me to thinking about two other shows at the Foley Gallery: Thomas Allen and Martin Klimas. All three of these shows are centered on pictures of objects, but only Klimas’s made a strong case for the use of photography to capture his subjects, since he photographed them in the moment they were breaking apart. Foley Gallery actually used their first floor annex to display Thomas Allen’s cut-and-propped pulp fiction covers, which made for a beautiful and dramatic use of that small space, but also raised the question: why isn’t the show of Allen’s constructions themselves, rather than pictures of them?

In a way, it felt like photography was being used to add “presence” to these highly reworked objects. As photographs they were elevated, both literally and figuratively–they could be raised to the eye level of spectators and increased in size, giving them a stature they wouldn’t otherwise have. It also made them signable, frame-able, and reproducible in editions. What’s still open to debate, however, is whether or not it has succeeded in transforming them from charismatic curios into works of art.