Francesco Patriarca's L'Appartement The young Italian photographer Francesco Patriarca captures the collective memory of space and objects combined. Accompanied by the lyrical catalog essay by Sibylle Pieyre de Mandiargues, "The Apartment," Patriarca's photographs distill the remembrance of things past without any of the soupy navel-gazing to which similar pictorial peregrinations often fall prey. Images such as "L'Appartement 5" and "L'Appartement 20" show the stained silhouettes of once-hung pictures on the wall as if so many disembodied fossils. Patriarca sheers nostalgia of its tearfulness by shooting it through a prism of pragmatism. That the images are mounted on aluminum not only makes them appear to float but also lends a deadpan, impassive feel. Through March 25 at Goss Gallery, 2500 Cedar Springs Road, 214-696-0555. Reviewed March 9. (Charissa N. Terranova)
John Pomara's 96-tears Perhaps now more than ever it's clear that the Dallas-based painter Scott Barber is a muse for John Pomara. His inspiration to Pomara is perhaps more literal now than it was before his untimely death from non-Hodgkin's lymphoma in May 2005. A combination of hearsay, various gallery talks given by Pomara and articles in the press tells us that the connection between these two painter-friends was above all catalytic like an internal combustion engine: Discussion and studio visits back and forth transformed energy into movement, and the rest has become history. Named after the hit song by 1960s band ? and the Mysterians, 96-tears is an exhibition of recent work by Pomara created in homage to the loss of his good friend Barber. The five small oil enamel-on-aluminum surfaces of "96 Tear-drops" distill the idea of the show. Opposite these sketches hang five similar paintings. Pomara has found catharsis in making beautifully wrought surfaces in white and black, each with a band of bright color at the bottom. "96-Tears No. 4" is a glistening white surface with deliquescent black lines running vertically and a broad band of red placed horizontally at the bottom. Pomara's masterfully robotic hand transforms salty human teardrops into pixelated information. Pomara has created a series of masterworks that are selling at far too low a price. Run and get them while you can. In the back rooms of Barry Whistler Gallery sit the animatedly sly and bombastic work of three young talented Dallas artists: Kirsten Macy, John Ryan Moore and Paul Slocum. Macy visually electrocutes with "She prayed for his arrival and shazam! there he was," an almighty-Isis lightning bolt on the wall made from small pieces of fluorescent colored paper mounted on the wall with pins. Moore's smooth-surfaced painting in bright red and yellow, "STS-114," escapes out onto the wall via trail lines of red tape. And Slocum pays clever homage to the recently deceased video-TV artist Nam June Paik with his "Powerup." As with Pomara's work in the front, we find Macy, Moore and Slocum making digital and new-form hay despite the loss of our dear loved one Scott. Through April 15 at Barry Whistler Gallery, 2909-B Canton St., 214-939-0259. (C.T.)
