Bjorn Dahlem at Friedrich Petzel - New York … the artist uses low-grade materials to great effect
Derek Conrad MurrayBerlin-based conceptualist Bjorn Dahlem made his New York solo debut with "Coma Sculptor," a room-size installation and five smaller sculptures that are a continuation of the young artist's fascination with cosmology. In the open-ended and experimental traditions of artists such as Duchamp and Beuys, Dahlem makes adept use of materials and linguistic puns. The "coma" in the exhibition's title has a double meaning that plays on both the common Greek root (as being in a comatose state or deep sleep) and the less common usage of the word "coma" (the nebulous cloud that forms the head of a comet), a term that comes from astronomy.
Dahlem's intelligently conceived science-fiction universe has a whimsical charm that is both playful and smart. The installation Coma Sculptor contained an oversized, architectonic construction suspended from the ceiling. Fashioned of scrap plywood, duct tape and metal screws, with wires lining its skeletonlike veins, the idiosyncratic sculpture's oblong orbital paths extended out into the gallery, forcing viewers to carefully navigate the space. An eclectic assortment of lit and unlit lightbulbs and fluorescent tubes dotted its edges.
Forming the nucleus of Coma Sculptor was a silver pyramidal frame; jutting up from the ground into the middle of the pyramid was a metal stand on which rested a Plexiglas armature holding aloft a water-filled jar. Suspended in the jar was a small sausage that, according to the artist, symbolized the kid that gets picked on in school. Even without this explicit reference, the tiny frankfurter strikingly alluded to the pathetic fragility of human life dwarfed by the cosmos swirling around it.
Resting on the gallery floor was a large circular carpet with concentric rings of muted earth tones. In addition to redoubling the artist's cosmological theme, the carpet was intended as a sort of psychedelic lounge area where visitors could chill and contemplate the expansive super-cluster. Looming over the sculpture on a nearby wall were gigantic, white letters that spelled "COMA." Made of Styrofoam, the letters conveyed a delicacy despite their commanding presence.
Dahlem's disarmingly earnest use of low-grade materials endowed the exhibition with the rough-hewn charm of guileless adolescent tinkering. Despite the work's jerry-built appearance, it exuded an internal order that is both erudite and sophisticated.
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