SCARY ‘White Spider,’ by Xander Marro. |
From 1995 until its demolition in 2001, Fort Thunder was the core of Providence's artistic identity. Fort Thunder artists — whether musical or visual, both, or otherwise — were united by a joyfully countercultural aesthetic, combining "poor art," repurposed materials, utopian terrain, and a grotesque salute to sexuality. They're the sort of folk who can make a convincing political act out of attending a harsh noise show wearing face paint, Speedos, and unicorn costumes.
Or a good, old-fashioned art exhibit. Xander Marro, whose "Cursed New England" installation brings the unmistakable musk of Fort Thunder to the SPACE Gallery Annex, has been at the forefront of progressive art movements for years. She's a founding member of the Dirt Palace, a feminist art collective, and here, she's a maskmaker, a printmaker, a collage artist, a digital photographer, and a sort of primitive DJ.
Which is to say, it's a pleasure to see that her Fort Thunder days weren't something she's grown out of. That collective spirit is summoned very quickly: three of her creatures, like oversized Frankensteins of the animal kingdom, sit before the Annex window as if ready to play. "The Hunt," a silkscreen print which follows the most traditionally narrative concept in "Cursed," depicts a woman on a ladder before a quasi-Victorian backdrop, her left arm clutching a spear with which she's already once plunged into the torso of some unholy beast. Given Marro's m.o. — the acceptance of witchcraft, the promotion of magic(k), and the radical destabilization of traditional rituals in favor of ones more local, radical, feminist, and evolving — it's not hard to see this piece as both symbolic and political. "The Hunt" makes a fine introduction to the show, and it's hardly the only beast to be slain.
Deeper into Marro's world, we find dark, dizzying wallpaper prints; a collection of fierce, feline-themed fabrics that would work in any radical living room; and an enormous wooden statue of a head ("A House A Home Part II"), in which six hollow caches offer earbuds looping songs by artists Marro sees as spiritual kinfolk. The exhibit's most successful piece is "Devil Mask Photo Booth," an interactive installation where visitors are encouraged to select from a lineup of a dozen or so colorful, hand-stitched devil masks with long, muppety noses, photograph themselves in a corner mirror, and send the photo to Marro herself for use in another project.
Given her title, some might expect Marro's works to tell us something more about the snakes and vampires that crop up in New England mythology, and though certain folkloric motifs are surely sublimated into her work (the Salem Witch Trials, for one, loom pretty large) Marro is obviously far more interested in creating new myths and symbols than rehashing the old ones. This makes for more satisfying work in the long run, but comes at a slight cost. Marro has a tremendous creative ethos, an adventurous imagination, and the wherewithal to transfer those qualities to others (it's no surprise the masks steal the show), but at times, her work can present the same dilemma as Matthew Barney's. Without the element of performance (which can humanize any art, no matter how out-there), Marro's creative works are so fantastic and inventive as to be difficult to follow, as if they've left the dimensions of the possible world and exist solely in her own imagination.
