Atmospheric Diver's images and sounds are unfamiliar and somewhat illogical. The mind, finding that it cannot deconstruct the ideas intellectually, refocuses and an organic and pure experience is left.
Two current Santa Fe exhibitions imply similar sentiments and demonstrate the artists’ capacities to observe the natural (and in these instances, the unnatural) world, and also the projection of the human psyche out into that world.
The sumptuous, Rubenesque quality imparted on the sculpture through Thomas’ process—in tandem with the volatile, hard-candyish color finishes—have the effect of feminizing and sexualizing these iterations of male, agrarian devices. It subverts, provokes and delights.
In his capturing of the driver/artists behind the creation of decotora trucks, Tatsuki becomes an anthropological chronicler, capturing a tribe that is bleakly staring at its own impending disappearance.
Some exhibitions move and transform some people. This exhibition, for all its towering confusion and brutal flaws, has transformed its artists. No previous biennial at SITE may make such a claim so robustly and it is in this uncomfortable role of evolutionary enabler that Lucky Number Seven so ridiculously succeeds.
For the past several years, Santa Fe’s summer high season has been punctuated by one epic week wherein a packed powder keg of parties, art openings, performances, lectures and generally “special” events detonates within the city, leaving a mushroom cloud of cultural fatigue and vague giddiness in its wake.
Unlike much of the contemporary art one is likely to suffer in a lifetime—self-referential egoisms generated to capitalize on style, design, fad and academic pretension—Thomas Ashcraft is laying out his personal ethos and inviting viewers to seek something alongside him.