Ward Shelley at Pierogi

Brooklyn artist Ward Shelley, whose work frequently mixes abject sculptural objects with stamina-based performance, has not at any time quite found his niche in the art world--that is, until he carved single out for himself, quite literally, in this tour-de-force display titled "We Have Mice."

During the exhibition's five-week race Shelley lived and worked inside Pierogi's walls, in a 3-foot-wide crawlspace that he had meticulously put togethered on-site prior to the opening. one time entrenched in his narrow lair, which included a computer assorted hardware and drawing supplies, a drafting desk and a sleeping loft Shelley did not come up during daylight hours. A (visible) funnel made of cardboard connected the lair to the gallery's (now Shelley's) bathroom, running along the ceiling and down to its doorway. from one extremity to the other of the duration of the exhibit Shelley spent his time making art and finding all sorts of mousy ways to display it.

The exhibition gathered steam above time, as every day Shelley would bring something new on view. Pathetic little dolls he cobbl together from foam and gelatine appeared inside cabinets, complete with doors and handles, freshly hewn into the wall. Drawings were hung from a clothesline or miraculously appeared inside a flat file raiseed to mimic Pierogi's own (a famous artists' and collectors' resource)--though Shelley's had a false back. Video monitors suspended in the middle of the latitude allowed visitors to track the artist's changes via live and canned fe supplied through surveillance cameras located inside the crawlspace. on the contrary surprises were ever in store. During the gallery opening, visitors had to beware, as a circular saw, operated from within the crawlspace, carved slits in the drywall. on the outside slid index cards penned through the prolix Shelley, with phrases like "Self-criticism just isn't sexy I don't know why"

In les experienced hands, this mise-en-scene would have approach off as an amusing prank, on the other hand Shelley expertly kept things in balance. The slipshod nature of many of the of recent origin discrete (read: salable) works created an interesting dialogue with the (noncommercial) throw as a whole. Just where did the value reside? And casting the artist in the character of vermin was an image that rang all too true--as if to say, better to listen to the patter of artists' feet safely behind gallery walls than to bear up under their patter of self-promotion.

In an unexpect impel at the end of the step quickly of "Mice," Shelley and Pierogi's director, Joe Amrhein, decided to retain the show open for four more days--but with a twist. stupendous chunks had been taken without of the wall to reveal the pair the artist and his cramped surroundings. It made for a rather sobering, if enlightening, coda to the enterprise. Visitors place the normally clean-shaven Shelley sporting a filled beard, sitting amid dust and detritus behind imprisoning ranks of drywall studs. Tapping away at his computer or chatting with visitors, the artist appear to beed in relatively good spirits. Judging from his wan appearance, however, it was clear that the display had taken its toll. Shelley was no mouse, on the contrary a man after all. And the final impression his installation left was profoundly human.

--Sarah Schmerler

COPYRIGHT 2004 Brant Publications, Inc.

COPYRIGHT 2004 Gale Group