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| ABOUT TRaC |
Accel Visual Arts TRaC Spring 2006
Thierry de Cordier Zuleyka Bonilla "Mother. Mad." This passage, scrawled on many of the pieces in Thierry de Cordier's "The Female Drawings, Part I," might lead you to believe that the work relates to a mother who is either insane or angry. You will definitely need to read the press release for this one, because "Mad." is actually de Cordier's abbreviation for Madonna. Indeed, the show is introduced by a painted-over Byzantine-style Madonna "with a bump incorporated." Only the basic shape is recognizable, as de Cordier has painted over all distinguishing marks, facial qualities included. The exhibition continues with numerous seemingly homogeneous "portraits" that are supposed to represent de Cordier's search to define the feminine. Identical in size (21 x 16 inches) and composed of monochromatic blacks and blues, the mixed-media drawings gradually become softer until the basic shape of the Madonna resembles a mountain with a rounded top and then a trapezoid that could be anything. "A Woman is a Trapezium," the artist says in a letter to the gallery (and on one of the pieces), "a geometrical non-place where all of the womanly fuse together." If fusion was his agenda, de Cordier has certainly succeeded. His main influences--among them the Madonna, the "profane" woman, his mother, his sister, and his "imaginary daughter"--are represented repeatedly in the same obscure, impenetrable fashion until you forget which drawings you've already seen and which are new. None of the pieces have faces, but all contain passages in French that may or may not help the viewer's understanding of what is being shown. One of these elusive trapezoidal pieces is titled Euh. Cul. Mais, Nique. Translation: "Umm. Butt. But, Unclear." At first glance, the figure is unidentifiable; however, upon reading the title and taking a step back, you can see the shape of what looks like a woman bending over, viewed from behind. Unfortunately, those who do not speak French may be oblivious to the underlying picture unless they stare at it for a while or are told what to look at. The gallery's adjoining room provides some relief from the obscurity of the main room. It contains more representational pieces, which, unlike the others, are more accessible to viewers. One of these, Saint Magdalena, actually has a face. Another, Madonne des neige éternelles ("Madonna of eternal snowfalls") comprises the body of a Westernized Madonna (also painted over) and a cut-out picture of the Alps pasted over her face. The inclusion of this image, torn off what looks like cardboard packaging, makes this piece the most engaging. Pleasing to the eye in an offbeat way because its beauty isn't obvious, the drawing curiously does not detract from the ideas that de Cordier wants to evince. In fact, it is the one piece that actually shows the transition from woman to mountain to anonymous form, achieving his goal of demonstrating that the womanly shape can become anything. De Cordier has been showing since the early 1970s, and his life, documented in an unusual curriculum vitae that includes negative reviews and psychiatric institutionalizations, has been a rollercoaster ride. This turmoil has been acutely evident in his work: He has done everything from painting to recording the development of mold in a search for his "true self." Perhaps de Cordier hopes to learn more about himself through his current attempt to define the "true feminine." The "feminine" he is trying to represent is showcased clearly in a few drawings in this show, even if one doesn't agree that women are so easily categorized into one being. Taken together, however, the works in "The Female Drawings, Part I" are mostly hit or miss. Perhaps more will successfully define the "true feminine" in Part II of de Cordier's series, slated for exhibition at Goodman's Paris gallery next spring.
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Thierry de Cordier, Euh. Cul. Mais, Nique, 2005, acrylic and crayon on paper, 25 1/4 x 26 1/8 inches.
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