| Brian Yates: Future Perfect Charles Allis Art Museum 1801 N. Prospect Avenue 414-278-8295 Through September 17. |
| Brian Yates, There Is Only One City, 2004. Acrylic, painters and packing tape and piano roll on panel. 42 x 40 in. |
the tactile forces of Yates' expressionistic brushstroke, minimalist color, and the antique aura of these papers
comes to life.
Under the opacity of acrylic paint on panel, fragments of these piano rolls bubble up from the past. There is a
peculiar urgency in this, as though there is an animated determination in these scraps of lyric and titles that is
not entirely concealed by the painted surface. In works such as There Is Only One City, a shade of sky blue
dominates; it’s an insistently polite color, yet it utterly subjugates the layer of piano roll beneath with a
decorously iron fist.
Packing tape plays a supporting role, its shininess acting as a counterpoint to the matte painted surface. A
feeling begins to arise from the tensions between the various media and the large, boxy shape of the panels.
These works seem to pack up time and memories from long ago. The sternly inflexible blue obliterates and
conceals, but still the past leaks through, as though in a box that just won’t stay shut.
The exhibition is split into two parts, so after leaving the Great Hall I ventured upstairs in the original part of the
house (completed in 1911 for Allis-Chalmers Corporation president Charles Allis and his wife Sarah). The
journey through these rooms provides a fascinatingly jarring experience as you travel from the airy
spaciousness of the Great Hall into elegant rooms packed with art, artifacts, and furniture. It’s distracting and
delicious, and impossible to go straight through without stopping to admire the treasures of the museum.
comes to life.
Under the opacity of acrylic paint on panel, fragments of these piano rolls bubble up from the past. There is a
peculiar urgency in this, as though there is an animated determination in these scraps of lyric and titles that is
not entirely concealed by the painted surface. In works such as There Is Only One City, a shade of sky blue
dominates; it’s an insistently polite color, yet it utterly subjugates the layer of piano roll beneath with a
decorously iron fist.
Packing tape plays a supporting role, its shininess acting as a counterpoint to the matte painted surface. A
feeling begins to arise from the tensions between the various media and the large, boxy shape of the panels.
These works seem to pack up time and memories from long ago. The sternly inflexible blue obliterates and
conceals, but still the past leaks through, as though in a box that just won’t stay shut.
The exhibition is split into two parts, so after leaving the Great Hall I ventured upstairs in the original part of the
house (completed in 1911 for Allis-Chalmers Corporation president Charles Allis and his wife Sarah). The
journey through these rooms provides a fascinatingly jarring experience as you travel from the airy
spaciousness of the Great Hall into elegant rooms packed with art, artifacts, and furniture. It’s distracting and
delicious, and impossible to go straight through without stopping to admire the treasures of the museum.
The installation of Yates’ work upstairs follows this sense of
display; things are put together in close quarters, modernism
mingled with Tudor-style architecture and marble fireplaces.
These elegant features are the backdrop for Yates’s three-
dimensional works such as Birdie, fashioned out of a piano
roll, found objects, and industrial materials to suggest an
explosive device. Yates considers piano rolls in this context
as “cartoon-like sticks of explosives,” and they have an
unsettling quality, particularly in a world on a tense edge.
Their explosiveness is not a literal one, but suggests the
potential of memory and history – how potent is the past, how
dangerous are memories once set off? There is surprising
energy coaxed out of some of these small pieces, though not
all of these variations in three-dimensions carry the same
powerful charge.
Other two-dimensional pieces are on display, including
works that incorporate not just the paper piano rolls but the
boxes they lived in. These smaller works seem to treat
fragments of the ideas in the larger panels downstairs, rather
like sketches exploring discreet facets of compositional
thoughts and materials.
display; things are put together in close quarters, modernism
mingled with Tudor-style architecture and marble fireplaces.
These elegant features are the backdrop for Yates’s three-
dimensional works such as Birdie, fashioned out of a piano
roll, found objects, and industrial materials to suggest an
explosive device. Yates considers piano rolls in this context
as “cartoon-like sticks of explosives,” and they have an
unsettling quality, particularly in a world on a tense edge.
Their explosiveness is not a literal one, but suggests the
potential of memory and history – how potent is the past, how
dangerous are memories once set off? There is surprising
energy coaxed out of some of these small pieces, though not
all of these variations in three-dimensions carry the same
powerful charge.
Other two-dimensional pieces are on display, including
works that incorporate not just the paper piano rolls but the
boxes they lived in. These smaller works seem to treat
fragments of the ideas in the larger panels downstairs, rather
like sketches exploring discreet facets of compositional
thoughts and materials.
| Brian Yates, Birdie, 2005. Found wood, player piano roll and boxes, rubber tubing, electrical tape. 16 x 18 x 4 in. |
The impact of the pieces varies throughout the exhibition, but it is gratifying to take in the themes presented by
the notions of artifact and memory in these pieces of formerly musical paper. Though piano rolls are a
recurring constant throughout, Yates composes broadly on this theme, and you’ll leave with some snippet of
tune or image in your head.
- By K.M. Murrell
Brian Yates is a Michigan native who has lived in Wisconsin. His current studio is located in Chicago, Illinois.
The Charles Allis Art Museum is located at 1801 N. Prospect Avenue. It is open Wednesday through Sunday,
1-5pm. Admission is $5 for adults and $3 for military personnel, seniors, and students. Members and children
received free admission. Contact the museum for more information at 414-278-8295.
Katherine Murrell is co-publisher of Susceptible to Images.
email kmmurrell@susceptibletoimages.com
the notions of artifact and memory in these pieces of formerly musical paper. Though piano rolls are a
recurring constant throughout, Yates composes broadly on this theme, and you’ll leave with some snippet of
tune or image in your head.
- By K.M. Murrell
Brian Yates is a Michigan native who has lived in Wisconsin. His current studio is located in Chicago, Illinois.
The Charles Allis Art Museum is located at 1801 N. Prospect Avenue. It is open Wednesday through Sunday,
1-5pm. Admission is $5 for adults and $3 for military personnel, seniors, and students. Members and children
received free admission. Contact the museum for more information at 414-278-8295.
Katherine Murrell is co-publisher of Susceptible to Images.
email kmmurrell@susceptibletoimages.com
| Copyright Art History Chicks, 2006. Contact Us |
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I heard the artist uses piano rolls. Images welled up in
my head of yellowed and fragile spirals of paper, ready to
crumble at the slightest provocation, and pierced with
random small holes that meant music to a generation
past. I could almost smell the dust.
I walked into the Margaret Fish Rahill Great Hall at the
Charles Allis Art Museum for part one of Brian Yates’
exhibition, "Future Perfect." Nothing musty, fussy, or odor-
filled in sight. Instead, the hall on this late afternoon was
spacious and quiet with four large, square canvases
glistening attractively under the lights, all very modern
looking and confident, and each measuring nearly four-
feet square. It is not until you get close, and even start
hunting around in some cases, that the player piano rolls
become evident. But when they do, the tension between
my head of yellowed and fragile spirals of paper, ready to
crumble at the slightest provocation, and pierced with
random small holes that meant music to a generation
past. I could almost smell the dust.
I walked into the Margaret Fish Rahill Great Hall at the
Charles Allis Art Museum for part one of Brian Yates’
exhibition, "Future Perfect." Nothing musty, fussy, or odor-
filled in sight. Instead, the hall on this late afternoon was
spacious and quiet with four large, square canvases
glistening attractively under the lights, all very modern
looking and confident, and each measuring nearly four-
feet square. It is not until you get close, and even start
hunting around in some cases, that the player piano rolls
become evident. But when they do, the tension between