En route to an exhibition at the Scarabb Gallery in Cleveland, I found myself in the midst of a violent

storm that preceded a tornado. This unexpected experience evoked the dichotomy between the

immediate, overwhelming environmental circumstances and the very premise and title of the exhibition I

was traveling to see, "Intimate Views." Presented as three solo exhibitions, "Intimate Views," consisted of

works by artists Matthias Dwell, William Radawec and Cindy Smith, all of whom, often, utilize the

intimacy of scale with an emphasis on drawing as primary elements in their work. But for the purposes of

this discussion, the following focuses on William Radawec's work within the context of the gallery site; its

primary relationship to intimate scale as it relates to nature and the conceptual reversal of our often

grandiose perception of, and experience in, the natural environment. The placement of Radawec's work

utilizes the existing architecture of the gallery to reinforce its content and structure. The sizes of the

individual pieces are consistently compact and most frequently scaled according to the actual size of the

subject matter at hand. Two corners of the gallery harbor paired works from the "Soul Patch" series,

thereby summoning the viewer to "face the corner." The corner, with its tremendous recent historical

references (home of the powerful piece by Terry Fox, titled corner push-1, where he spent no small

amount of time trying to compress his entire body into the confines of a specific angled space) as site of

often small scaled works utilizing tension in the form of support, intrusion or expulsion from the junction,

in this case, provides an intimate setting, much like the meeting of two pages in a book. Each soul patch

is a rectangular panel positioned at eye level, with one in each pair consisting of "fake grass" (model

railroad foliage) concealing a "ground," which, unbeknownst to the viewer, is actually a painting in

acrylic on wood. Thus, we have a painted "ground" obscured by real fake grass, a succinct statement

conveyed by material, language, and process; the "real" material of representation versus the supposed

"fakeness" of simulation. In fact, as an innately theatrical society, we often interact with the facsimile, or

the simulated, and sometimes choose it over the absent or presumed original. On the adjoining wall and

in close proximity, hangs a similar soul patch--rectangular, visually dense, green and rather minimal, but

crafted of drawing materials. The reduplication again embraces concepts of representation and

simulation. This soul patch is a labor-intensive compilation of marks that look like grass, presented as if

one is viewing a rectangular patch of lawn from four feet above. The marks function as texture and

accumulation, speaking to the dual process of growth and decay. The "Soul Patch" series is named for

Radawec's fondness of cemeteries--inspired by his many walks through them -- referencing the grassy

areas above the buried beloved and the absence of the soul below. Walking stick, #14 and walking

stick, #15 are wooden dowels of functional walking stick scale, but with single, tiny, model train trees

atop each, thus, varying the scale relationship to the viewer. The tree initially takes precedence in these

pieces, conveying a very solitary icon-like image. However, upon further investigation of the sculptures

and titles, one is aware of the use-value of the objects. They are positioned vertically with the assistance

of a plexiglass support, as if ready to be taken off on a wall -- the viewer realizes these are actually

utility items, both physically and conceptually. The concept of the walking stick initially was employed by

Radawec after witnessing, on television, the Pope's visit to Colorado, where he was presented with a

pair of tennis shoes and a walking stick. In white tennis shoes and with his stick, the Pope proceeded to

take a walk through the woods. The iconography alluded to is well suited to Radawec's inspiration and

sense of humor. The idea of having a stationary walking stick with "nature" already present is indicative

of the need not to be invigorated by the natural environment, but to encapsulate it, keeping it present in

a domicile or interior public space--just as postcards or paintings of visited or unvisited natural settings

often give the viewer the feeling of "being there," or "having been there," allowing escape from the

work-a-day world in an urban or suburban surround. One of the defining qualities of traditional

landscape painting has been that it places the viewer within the scene represented. In this case, the

grandeur one so often admires in the painted or photographed still natural world is humorously plucked

out of context, miniaturized, harnessed and brought indoors as a kind of souvenir, not necessarily in

reference to a specific experience in nature, but rather in commemoration of the moment the idea of the

importance of one's presence in nature becomes articulated. These pieces, as well as others in the

exhibition, are placed where they might naturally occur. In one case, sticks lean against the wall after

use. In the case of wired (another basket case), abbreviated features describe a small chrome bird,

suspended in a basket above the viewer and out of reach. Conceptually, the bird exists in the realm of

identification, as one who is out of reach, stationary and contained. But the generous distance between

the open top of the basket and the ceiling suggests the possibility of escape. The artist initially conceived

this piece in reference to the evolution of the bird from the dinosaur, thus, heading towards eventual

extinction.

Ann Carter

Los Angeles, California, 1996