Parting Gesture

The Mattress Factory is honest in saying that the “Gestures” series has been a gamble for… The Mattress Factory is honest in saying that the “Gestures” series has been a gamble for the past two years.

“Openness to chance and a determination to be as inclusive as possible have marked our selections over the past two years,” reads the introduction to the fifth and final Gestures exhibit, which ” like the others before it ” is as eclectic a mix of installation art as can be found anywhere in the world.

As with almost all modern installation exhibits, the lines between types of art are blurred. Both Nick Bubash’s “O.G. Tattooing” and Sam Pace’s “stairway to heaven/exorciser” border on performance art. The former consists of elaborate tattoos being drawn on the skin of people, the latter is an instrument constructed from Stairmaster pedals and discarded pipe organ pipes, with an accompanying performance.

At the opening, two people dressed as raggedy angels entered the gallery. As one pedaled, making crude organ sounds, the other held out slices of angel food cake. Meanwhile, a computer to their right showed random numbers on the screen. The art, as is so often the case, could be seen as anything, from a profound statement on the random and demanding nature of religion to the merely bizarre.

But the Mattress Factory has gotten good at playing the dice game of modern art. For 20 years, it has consistently exhibited thought-provoking, highly creative works that are above the straight weirdness that is par for the installation course. And Gestures is perhaps the most shining testament to that consistent excellence.

David Wallace’s “Graces Can Be Grown” is a powerful sculpture-collage formed from a female mannequin; a bird’s nest provided the head, a huge painting of pelvic bones depicted the wings, and clothing irons were chained to its legs.

Wallace’s work is set up well by Todd Swan’s “Lamplight,” which brings together art and interior design in the confined area of a tight corridor.

Both are followed notably by a dark room with Hiro Miura’s “DO NOT DISTURB” and James Church’s “Cold Comfort.” The first is a door behind which Miura has placed receipts on a mat and the second is a wooden cabinet with bottles filled with noxious metaphorical medicine, both sobering indictments of a culture increasingly obsessed with intrusion and sterilization.

The piece that stands out above the others, though, is Jo-Anne Bates’ “Sunday Mornin = Hats, Hats ‘ Mo Hats.” A room with two church pews in the front and dozens of hats suspended from the ceiling, the work recalls childhood mornings in church. Devoid of the pretension and esoteric snobbery that can so often plague modern art, Bates’ piece is a touching, playful and nostalgic look back that achieves one of the most difficult tasks for art: it makes onlookers smile.

The Mattress Factory’s introduction included words of hope that “Gestures” will continue in future years. A nice refresher as longer-term exhibits ” like the current James Turrell show ” take up the main spaces a block away, the five “Gestures” exhibitions have been a constant and pleasant reminder of how the Mattress Factory continues to make the work of finding great cutting-edge art look easy.