ART REVIEW : UCSD SCULPTURE EXHIBIT AN EDUCATIONAL EVENT

LA JOLLA — UCSD’s Mandeville Gallery, under the general title “Sculpture Arenas,” is presenting the works of six artists based in Southern California. Three of them live in San Diego-- Kenneth Capps, Mathieu Gregoire and Margaret Honda--and three in Los Angeles--Chris Burden, Jill Giegerich and Mark Lere.

The most famous with an international reputation is Burden, whose works have often involved elements of personal risk. Exhibited here is his “The Hard Push” (1983), the most imposing work in the exhibition because of its very large scale and reductive form.

A plywood wheel more than 9 feet in diameter and 4 feet wide, its interest is as residue from a performance piece that Burden created at UCLA four years ago. At noon on May 23, 1983, tied spread-eagle to the wheel situated at the bottom of Bruin Walk, the main pedestrian thoroughfare on the campus, he invited students to push him up the steep grade of the path rising almost 500 feet. That was it.

An acquaintance with the performance is necessary to a full appreciation of the sculpture, which is further enriched by its allusions to the classical figures of Ixion and Sisyphus and perhaps even more by speculation about what would have happened if Burden had rolled down the hill.

A sinister or threatening quality appears as well in the works of other artists in the exhibition, including Honda, who despite her youth has a strong reputation. Using barbed wire, she makes forms that refer to types of protective devices worn by fighters such as gladiators, hence the group title “Bread and Circus Games.”

The nature of the material introduces irony into the works because it is impossible to escape a sense of unease about barbed wire coverings for the head, hands, face and shins.

Hanging by filament from the ceiling, the forms are intended to throw elegant shadows onto the gallery walls. Poor lighting, however, has weakened the effect. In addition, sound from outside the gallery intrudes on the mood of the work.

Reductive sculptor Capps, a very strong artist with a mature vision who merits international attention, often uses steel to assert the force of gravity. But here, he defies it in a number of wall pieces that seem to float high overhead.

“Razor X-1” (1986), just above head level, implies a threat like the works of Burden and Honda.

Capps’ major new work, “Metered Atmosphere” (1987), in the rarely used gallery patio outside, rises 21 feet high. At the top of a perforated column through which compressed air resonates rests a cross form that looks as if it might rise in flight.

Los Angeles artist Lere is represented by a group of handsome works, both wall- and floor-oriented. His overall aesthetic is reductive, but within that general category his works range widely. Untitled (1986), a wall piece, looks like a powerful African form. “Pawn” (1986) looks like an oversize chess piece sitting on the floor. “Bronze Drawing” (1984) is a tall figurative wall piece, whose effect, like the works of Honda, is enhanced by the shadows it casts.

What these and Lere’s other works share is a sense of mystery. For all their ostensible simplicity, they are complexly evocative. Perhaps the proper rubric for his works is “magical reductivism.”

Giegerich’s wall reliefs also appear as emblems of some occult knowledge. Using unaesthetic materials such as plywood and roofing tar, she creates handsome works with a strong presence.

Gregoire has a modest exhibition history but an impressive talent. His reductive works made of plywood and Formica are rectilinear in form but mysterious in content. How they do this is a puzzle. Relatively small in scale, they invite interaction, especially visual inspection of their interiors. But nothing’s there. They are dead-ended. Nevertheless, they are as irresistible to gallery visitors as paper bags and open drawers are to cats.

It is through creating involvement that this exhibition performs a major educational function.

Gallery director Gerry McAllister organized the exhibition, which is accompanied by a catalogue with an essay by Michael McManus.

It continues through May 3.