Terri Lindbloom at Contemporary Art Projects, Albuquerque.


Continuing the tradition of the Hoshour Gallery, which brought artists with international reputations to this storefront space near the railroad tracks in downtown Albuquerque, for two months Kathleen Shields loaned three rooms of her new project space to the pragmatic imagination of Terri Lindbloom's austere constructions of metal bars welded at right angles, attached to, disappearing into, the limen of the gallery's white walls.

Using also glass, along with photographs of her video stills, Lindbloom, an installation artist based in Tallahassee, Florida, creates airy systems of positive space that realize an aesthetic formed during her three summers in northern Morocco, as well as her studies of church architecture in southern Europe. Demurely dressed with sheets of sandblasted glass, one etched with Nol Arnaud's abrupt Je suis l'espace o je suis, declaring the artist's relationship with recursive transitional space, the artist imposed a squarely seated structure with anthopomorphic intonations, a sort of skeleton of a Henry Moore woman; her lengthy lap.

In the adjoining room, a similarly constituted work "though we can walk into this one's interior of three sides" is baptized with natural light from the peaked skylight directly above.

Wedded to the straight lines and right angles that grace Western aesthetics, crescent shaped clamps serve to torque Lindbloom's study of Islamic symbolic motivations.

This dialogue between transcendent values and local codes continuously marks her work, as with the three empty cradles which, when tipped, describe their arc in the air without losing their ponderous grounding, even while playing off the rigid splayed-out sparseness of their siblings in the other rooms.

Hope is rocked in these gravid crucibles, as the darkest, most violently confusing of times always gestate diffused illumination, as when Lindbloom used batting to cushion the heavy stanchions from scoring the gallery's wooden floor; then seeing stray waves and sprays of the cotton, she incorporated them into the flux of her vision.

With an eye for foundational concerns, and a feeling for sacral space, the brazen activity of Lindbloom's mind is fused with what she constructs, fleshing out the irony of postmodernism's "difficult unity of exclusion," by reclaiming the broken bones of our most ancient beliefs as ironically dysfunction spaces.


(c) Joel Weishaus 1993