Christopher Jordan at Chapel + Cultural Center

An extraordinary show of photographs by Christopher Jordan is currently on view at RPI's Chapel + Cultural Center, which is slightly off the beaten track but actually very easy to find and, being a Catholic church as well as a beautiful gallery, it's open pretty much all the time.

Jordan, who came to the area about five years ago to teach at Sage College of Albany, has already moved on to his next teaching job in Tuscaloosa, Ala.; fortunately for us, the show will remain through Sept. 28. Titled Ablation Points, the collection of about 20 pieces in both color and black and white has integrated Jordan's love of landscape photography with his knack for digital tinkering, resulting in an innovative and transformative body of work that confounds our preconceptions about both (you can click here to see examples on his website).

How's that? First, he freezes up a bunch of ice in his home freezer and sets up a studio arrangement that includes a rubber-lined tray of water, cottony cloud fuzz, rocks, lights, and whatever else he may need to concoct an illusory Icelandic fjordscape (and, yes, he has actually been to Iceland). Then he shoots large-format black-and-white negatives with a view camera to capture these fictions in very great detail. Some of the images in the show are beautifully crafted straight silver prints from those negs (example at right), and they are quite lovely near-abstractions; but the rest are something significantly different.

Jordan got his master's degree in photography at RIT, a program known for its adherence to extreme technical excellence - hence the view camera and all that. But he has added the digital arena to his set of skills, and it is in these Ablation pictures that the old and new technologies come together to create something excitingly new.

After shooting a variety of setups, Jordan scans the negatives into a very high definition digital environment and transforms them, mainly by adding color. The amazingly realistic and expressive effects he achieves, without resorting to cheap tricks, is what makes this work so impressive.

Even when the elements of Jordan's images are reduced to a few shapes and gestures, the way they capture atmosphere is uncanny. In this, he rivals his rightful predecessors, the Hudson River School painters. They, too, were using beauty to convey messages that are essentially spiritual and environmental.

Jordan describes these works as "an extended metaphor for climate change," and you do feel the sadness that pervades their sense of awe. The word "ablation," which is a synonym for erosion or vaporization (you can trust me, I looked it up) makes his message clear. While it's doubtful that pictures can help much to protect the future of the glaciers, I feel strongly that Jordan has produced something of lasting value by making them.

Dove/O'Keeffe at The Clark

Arthur Dove, Sunrise I, 1936. Tempera on canvas, 25 x 35 inches.

He inspired Georgia O'Keeffe to begin painting abstractly, became a lifelong friend and ongoing influence on her work, and was celebrated alongside her by the most influential art critics of the first half of the 20th century. Still, though millions of people today can instantly recognize almost any picture by (or of) O'Keeffe, the name Arthur Dove scarcely rings a bell.

But not if Debra Bricker Balken has her way. Balken is the independent curator who created this summer's blockbuster exhibition, Dove/O'Keeffe: Circles of Influence, on view at the Sterling and Francine Clark Art Institute in Williamstown, Mass., through Sept. 7. Balken also put together a Dove retrospective in 1997, and has written the text for the handsome catalog that accompanies this show.

The exhibition at the Clark amply demonstrates both how and why Dove was an artist of similar significance to O'Keeffe, and lovingly documents the depth and duration of their connection. It also features two other players: Alfred Stieglitz, who showed both artists' work at his New York City gallery and introduced them to each other before eventually marrying O'Keeffe; and Sigmund Freud, whose writing on sex greatly influenced the thinking of participants in the American Modernist movement.

O'Keeffe bristled at the characterization of herself and Dove as representative of their respective gender in painting, and I think she was right - the many works by both artists in this show share and swap so many characteristics as to defy any honest viewer who would try to categorize either artist's expression as essentially male or female (to test yourself, take a look at the paintings reproduced above at right and below at left, and then decide which painting is better representative of which sex - they are identified at the bottom of this post).

That debate, I would add, is part of the point. Abstraction, in the hands of Dove and O'Keeffe, became a disembodied celebration of nature, expressed not through the neuroses and complexities of human perceptions, but experienced instead as a pure thing in its forms and essences. What is remarkable about these pioneering paintings is how fresh they seem, and relevant they remain, nearly a century after they were made.

The exhibition does well by presenting the work in bite-size pairs and groupings, and by organizing it into several historical themes (such as New York Modernism) and contextual categories (such as Color/Light). The wall texts are informative, which really helps one to navigate the show conceptually, and succinct, which is practical, as it is likely to be pretty crowded any time you visit. The throngs make it a bit difficult to linger, but it is essential that you take the time to contemplate this art long enough to let it work its magic with your perceptions.

And magical it is. From Dove's stark early drawings, through O'Keefe's groundbreaking watercolors and Dove's experiments with materials such as glass and metal, to the final pairings of the two artists' transcendental nature paintings, it is both a lesson in the history of Modern art and an immersion in the process and power of fully resolved works. While the key to the show is how it works as a whole, both in relating Dove's work to O'Keeffe's and in presenting each artist's work on its own, there are several highlights worth mentioning.

While the larger, finished paintings are very impressive, both artists' watercolor sketches are fascinating, and they provide convenient bookends to the exhibition - O'Keeffe's journey began with hers as she discovered a new style in 1916-17, and Dove's ended with his, as he made one or two tiny personal images each day in the years leading up to his death in 1946.

A room that places two major O'Keeffe cityscapes side by side, and then adds a quieter but compositionally identical Dove nearby, holds enough interest to justify the entire exhibition. Equally, two brilliant Doves (one of which is reproduced at the top of this post) dominate another room, while an understated O'Keeffe pastel titled Slightly Open Clam Shell hangs serenely nearby. Amusingly, the other Dove is titled Alfie's Delight; I will go out on a limb and assert that it's a reference to Stieglitz (who knew they called him Alfie?).

A trio of works by Dove that develop an idea for an image of a stream from a sketch into a fine painting is engrossing and gratifying. On an adjacent wall, two luminous O'Keeffes explore a glowing humanlike form in relation to a vividly green landscape. In this corner of the museum, the presence of the artists is as strong as if we were in their studios the day after these works came into existence.

The entrance to the exhibition, which features a Dove painting of the moon that looks like a towering plant and an O'Keeffe painting of a jack-in-the-pulpit that resembles the Northern lights, sets the proper tone. These are awe-inspiring artists; juxtaposing the two enhances the already powerful experience of seeing their work individually. This fabulous show will not travel - you must see it here and now, and I recommend that you do.

Georgia O'Keeffe, Sunrise, 1916. Watercolor on paper, 8 7/8 x 11 7/8 in.

Gender quiz answers: The painting reproduced above at the right is Georgia O'Keeffe's Red & Orange Streak, 1919. Oil on canvas, 27 x 23 inches (68.6 x 58.4 cm). Philadelphia Museum of Art. Bequest of Georgia O'Keeffe for the Alfred Stieglitz Collection, 1987 [Courtesy of the Philadelphia Museum of Art]. The one below it at left is Arthur Dove's Fog Horns, 1929. Oil on canvas, 18 x 26 inches (45.7 x 66 cm). Colorado Springs Fine Arts Center. Anonymous Gift, FA 1954.1 [Courtesy of and copyright The Estate of Arthur Dove / Courtesy Terry Dintenfass, Inc.].

Additional credits: The painting reproduced at the top of this post is from the collection of Deborah and Ed Shein [Courtesy of and copyright The Estate of Arthur Dove / Courtesy Terry Dintenfass, Inc.]; the one at the bottom is from the collection of Barney A. Ebsworth [(c) 2009 Georgia O'Keeffe Museum / Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York].

Ben Schwab and Blake Shirley at Albany Center Gallery

Up-and-coming painters Ben Schwab and Blake Shirley have been paired for a show at Albany Center Gallery, making for a good opportunity to see recent bodies of work by artists somewhat new to the area. But it's also a strange match - sort of like The Odd Couple's Felix Ungar and Oscar Madison, with Schwab as the neat-freak and Shirley as the slob.

Despite their differences of approach, subject, and scale, the two artists' works are comfortably intermingled in the gallery's four rooms, which include 10 or so pieces by each that date from 2007 and later. Schwab, who came from Philadelphia to Albany to teach at The College of Saint Rose, paints and draws architecture. Shirley, who earned his MFA in 2007 and teaches at the University of Connecticut, paints on paper or canvas in a hybrid of styles; his subject matter, though not always recognizable, tends toward the domestic.

Schwab's paintings, with one exception in this selection, are small and tight (the one pictured at the top of this post, titled Troy, is large for him at 12 by 27 inches). They depict somewhat simplified jumbles of urban buildings with a rich but not expressive color range and, in most cases, with perspective lines extended into the space around the structures. He often uses a high point of view, which emphasizes the slight otherworldliness the floating lines create and underscores the sense that humans (absent in these images) are not really part of the process.

Some of Schwab's work harks back to the early 20th-century paintings of Modernists like Charles Sheeler, and has a distinctly Midwestern sensibility. This inkling is born out by a scan of his bio, which includes study in Missouri and Indiana. But Schwab is no yokel - he has also studied in Florence, and traveled in Spain, Germany, Switzerland, England, the Netherlands, and France; last year, he went to Tokyo on a Saint Rose faculty research grant. His painting in the show titled Nihonbashi Tokyo is among his best.

Schwab's drawings, whether sketchy in graphite on gesso, or lush in charcoal on paper, add another dimension to the show. While they further reveal the artist's skill and process, the charcoals in particular also display a warmth that is sometimes lacking in the paintings.

Shirley works very loosely compared to Schwab, far more colorfully, and much larger. His work in the show ranges from about 40 by 50 inches to about 8 feet square, and it seems to get better as it gets bigger, perhaps because the larger canvases give his brush more room to move.

At first, I was put off by Shirley's mundane content - stuff like laundry, junky furniture, and an incongruous old-fashioned rolling blackboard are strewn through his images almost haphazardly, often in such a topsy-turvy way as to make you wonder if the paintings are hung upside-down. But, the more I looked, the better I liked these paintings.

Sometimes you have to give an artist a chance to bring you into his world before you pass judgment. Do I care about cheap couches and busted file cabinets? Not a whit. But I came to enjoy the way Shirley paints them, without being concerned for what it all might mean.

In these works, bright clouds of color obscure a rendered catalog of objects, breaking up spatial relationships and shifting scale (the example shown above is a 2009 oil and acrylic on paper titled Caught). A lot of it is pretty messy and unstructured, with some paintings even appearing unfinished - but, at the same time, Shirley's work is pure eye candy in its more abstract sweeps of gestural color.

In a world where too many shows are curator-driven and thematic, it's good to see singular bodies of work by artists who are focused on the task of creating them, and to have a chance to understand them in their own context. The gallery is doing an important service by offering this type of opportunity to regional artists and their followers.

By the way, the Schwab/Shirley show opened on July 14 but will have its reception on Friday (Aug. 7) from 5 to 9 p.m., as part of the regular 1st Friday festivities.

NOTE: In the interest of full transparency, please be aware that I am a member of Albany Center Gallery's exhibits committee, which reviews and rates submissions by artists.

Hudson galleries

July gave us record amounts of rain. So, how about a little snow for August? That's part of what Carrie Haddad Gallery offers in its annual Landscapes exhibition, which opens with a reception tonight (Saturday) from 6 to 8 p.m. The snow is courtesy of Washington County painter Harry Orlyk (image above); the other featured artists are Tracy Helgeson, Robert Koffler, and Don Bracken.

While it might seem underwhelming conceptually, this summer landscape show sets a very high standard and even gets pretty edgy with Bracken's work, where extreme texture and a narrow tonal range evoke Anselm Kiefer. Koffler's neo-Modernist woodsy scenes range from seductively vivid to pensive (in his less colorful moments). Helgeson's more eye-pleasing palette and geometry dominate the big front room, where a surprisingly diverse collection of her quasi-formulaic works are grouped in exuberant clusters. And Orlyk, painting feverishly in his well-established Impressionist style, is brilliant as always.

Additional spotlight exhibitions by Linda Cross, Thomas Locker, and Russell DeYoung in the gallery's back room and upstairs spaces extend the landscape theme and, apart from Locker's cloying Luminism, maintain the level set by the feature show's artists.

Down at the opposite end of Warren Street, BCB Art has a solo show of works on paper by Sasha Chermayeff (shown below in her studio) that ends Aug. 9. Chermayeff's father is the graphic designer Ivan Chermayeff, and the graphic influence is readily apparent in this direct, gestural work that emphasizes primary colors and pared-down technique.

There is a childlike quality to this work that may or may not appeal to serious art viewers. I found it somewhat decorative, reading a bit more as designs for textiles than as resolved paintings - but a few of the works do go beyond the surface.

A collection of folded paper accordion books added heft to the presentation; also, a group of six smaller paintings, framed and presented in a grid, worked quite well.

A counterpoint to Chermayeff's no-frills approach comes in the form of the layered and very thoughtful mixed-media work of Yale Epstein, now on view at Albert Shahinian Fine Art. The solo exhibition, titled Inscriptions II: The Eloquent Brush, opened in late June and has been extended to Sept. 13.

Epstein, based in Woodstock, is in his 70s and has a very long list of achievements, including many shows locally and internationally, dozens of public and corporate collections, and a rapidly growing list of commissions. Known primarily as a printmaker, he moves easily from press, ink, and paper to oil, acrylic, and canvas. A strong, coherent selection of all his mediums is presented in this beautiful, multi-room gallery.

Among the more impressive pieces in the show is Chronicle I, a 4-foot painting reproduced at left. Its colors, composition, and calligraphy are representative of much of the work in the show, all of which has a distinct Oriental flavor. I was told that Epstein's characters are invented but, to one not schooled in Chinese writing, they felt authentic; it's interesting to note that a number of his commissions have been for sites in the Far East.

What Epstein aims for - and achieves - in this work is an experience of cross-cultural communication that transcends both time and geography, as alluded to in his introduction to a beautifully printed color catalog that accompanies the show. It is an extremely rich body of work by an artist totally immersed in the essence of history and connection.

A quite different, but equally compelling solo show of paintings is offered at John Davis Gallery through Aug 16. David Hornung combines heavily pigmented oils with encaustic to produce flat colors that are aesthetically similar to gouache, a medium he also favors. Plenty of works in both mediums are featured in this very clean presentation, where Hornung shares cheerful, allegorical scenarios that verge on illustration but remain poignantly personal (the example above is titled Remembering M).

It might be hard to pull this off if Hornung were less of a painter, but the work is no less convincing for being rather charming. I always find an encounter with paintings of such skill to be the perfect antidote to our era's emphasis on concept over craft. This work shows you can be original without abandoning strong technique.

And, speaking of original, there's a brilliant installation in the Davis Gallery's carriage house (out back, beyond the sculpture garden) by Leticia Ortega and Dionisio Cortes that conjures a stunning and relevant experience out of the simplest of materials: plastic bags of water. Titled when skies are hanged, it has been extended to Aug. 16, and is a must-see.

My final stop of the day was at Carrie Haddad Photographs, where a show titled Afterglow: Four Photographers and the Hand-Held Light will run through Aug. 30. Comprising photographic images that have been created through the use of hand-applied lighting with long exposures, this exhibition brings back an alternative technique, often called "painting with light" that was popular in the '70s.

In fact, some of the work in the show by David Lebe dates just about that far back, which is fine with me. (Side note: not all "contemporary" art needs to have been made last week to be worth looking at.) Along with Lebe, Robert Flynt and Warren Neidich work in black and white; Gary Schneider is the lone color practitioner in the group.

All four work directly with the human form (Lebe's Scribble, shown above, notwithstanding), in significantly varied ways. Neidich presents a grim grid of 12 images against a black background that emphasizes the skull-like qualities of the human head. Lebe works mostly with the male nude, sometimes adding hand-colored elements, to evoke a spiritual sexuality. Flynt crosses boundaries and genres by montaging and collaging elements into a wall-sized constellation of images pinned, flush-mounted, clipped in glass, or framed.

All of these are strong - but my favorite is Schneider, whose full-length, life-size frontal nudes (the one shown at right is titled Laura) evoke cadavers, despite the subjects' open eyes and alert expressions. They also afford the rare opportunity to examine a living stranger's anatomy, nasty bits included, which I'm pretty sure all of us can't resist doing any more than a dog can resist its rude sniffings.

So much comes down to sex and death; Schneider's work, and this show as a whole, makes that quite clear, but in a way that still feels life-affirming. And that's what good art is all about.

NOTE: Hudson's galleries have varied hours; most are open at least from noon to 5, Thursday through Monday, but to be sure, check their websites.

Notes from all over

ADVERTISING
I would love to have been in on the meeting that determined the language on the I-90 billboard advertising the current show at the Clark Art Institute. It says "This summer - Georgia O'Keeffe," with no mention of poor Arthur Dove (the show itself is called Dove/O'Keeffe: Circles of Influence).

Now, I understand that these are hard times for museums, and that summer is their best chance to rake in as much box-office as they can (especially the Clark, where admission is free in the off-season). I also understand that for every person who's heard of Dove there are probably 10,000 who've heard of O'Keeffe. But I'd like to think that a two-person show could be advertised as such and still draw viewers. Silly me! Clearly, the PR people making decisions for the Clark know on which side their bread is buttered.

BTW, watch this space for a review of the Dove/O'Keeffe show, to be posted on Aug. 10.

MUSIC
I ran into the incomparable chanteuse Jill Hughes on Sunday at the Salsa Celtica show in Schenectady's Central Park (big shout-out to Mona Golub for her 20 years of service to the global music-loving community), and she told me she is working on a new solo CD, set to come out at a release party at the Van Dyck in September.

The last time I heard Jill sing was a few years back, on the stage with the Funk Brothers at Albany's Washington Park, and she totally belonged up there with those R&B legends. This Thursday, she'll be in the mosh pit with the rest of us, as Tower of Power provides a much-needed soul vaccination at Alive at Five. Don't miss it.

ART
Last Thursday, a new experience was offered at the University Art Museum, when six of the artists in the current Mohawk-Hudson Regional participated in a Japanese-style slide talk they called Fast Talk. Brian Cirmo, Sharon Bates, Kelly Jones, Dorene Quinn, Richard Garrison and Harold Lohner were given 20 seconds per slide to talk about 20 images (that's less than 7 minutes total per artist) to an engaged and amused audience.

Before, between, and after the Fast Talks, DJ Truemaster spun house music while art fans mingled with each other and the Regional's diverse offerings. It was particularly fun to observe as gray-curled, bespectacled museum director Janet Riker introduced and thanked "DJ True," proving that you can be geeky, middle-aged, and hip all at once.

The artists appeared to have a ball with the breezy format, even when the wrong slide popped up, which only happened a couple of times but was still enough to keep them on their toes. All in all, it was entertaining, informative, and well received by a capacity crowd. I hope they'll bring the concept back again.

Note: the Regional - an annual must-see for local art lovers and lovers of local art - ends on Aug. 8, so if you haven't seen it yet, you still have time.

Lore Hauptman at Albany Art Room

If you want to know the secret of a long life, look to Lore Hauptman. Still making art at the age of 94, Hauptman's show at the Albany Art Room clearly reflects the youthful exuberance that has kept her going all these years, from her childhood in pre-Nazi Germany through subsequent relocations to Holland, then Israel, and finally the United States (she now resides in Albany County).

A granddaughter organized Hauptman's first-ever local show at this charming, offbeat art space on the 1st Friday circuit, and it couldn't be more appropriate for the site. Featuring 26 little gems of frivolity in two-dimensional mixed media, along with a handful of decorated ceramic vessels (Hauptman worked primarily as a potter), the collection is full of whimsy - childlike but sophisticated.

The show begins in a narrow spot near the cluttered Art Room's entrance and then fills a clean, well-lit room beyond the multi-purpose business' retail art-supply shop, providing inspiration for and respite from the creative bustle of activity in a somewhat labyrinthine space that is essentially a studio for rent. The display near the entrance features a glass-paned curio cabinet with several small sketchbooks, a few ceramics, and black-and-white photos from the '50s, neatly encapsulating a life fueled by creativity and zest.

These qualities are embodied in all the wall-hung pieces, most of which are figurative and focus on playful and whimsical topics, such as the circus, Lady Godiva, animals, flowers, and solitary but joyous artists at work. All are identified simply as mixed media, which is somewhat of an understatement, as a great number of techniques are employed, including etching, watercolor, and collage.

Hauptman displays an illustrator's ease with subject and technique; indeed, many of these pieces feel like they could have been intended for books of fairy tales, though they are more personal than that would suggest. Among the strongest pieces, one of an artist painting outdoors under a fanciful tree of flowers clearly evokes Marc Chagall. Others place more emphasis on constructivist form, with layerings of paper building up geometry and texture. Another outstanding piece is an ethereal watercolor of a vase of flowers, painted on a page from a book; it evokes another artist from Hauptman's time, Paul Klee.

Altogether, it is a joy to enter the Art Room and feel its life-affirming energy, perfectly exemplified by the sweet-souled art of a wise woman who never lost her innocent optimism. Take note that the show is set to run just through Friday (the 31st), but may be extended for another month (check http://www.albanyartroom.com/ for updates). It is open from 10 to 4 Saturday and from 10 to 1 on Sunday, then again from 11 to 6 Tuesday to Friday.

Lives of the Hudson (and K.O.S.) at Tang Museum

Enough with the Hudson River 400th anniversary exhibitions already! Everybody is having one, including the New York State Museum, Albany Institute of History & Art, Samuel Dorsky Museum at SUNY New Paltz, Hudson River Maritime Museum in Kingston, and Hudson River Museum in Yonkers, among the larger sites, and the list goes on and on with smaller galleries.

But maybe it isn't enough - as was pointed out in a recent issue of Metroland, 400 years is a heck of a long time, and well worth celebrating. So it is in that spirit that I recommend the latest offering in this field, an eclectic exhibit called Lives of the Hudson at Skidmore College's Tang Teaching Museum. This is new territory for the Tang, known for cutting-edge art and far-reaching academic crossovers, not for history exhibits. But, even if you're hooked on the Tang's often tongue-in-cheek style of curating, you shouldn't be disappointed with this thoughtful and still edgy offering of art and artifacts from the last 200 years of life along the Hudson.

The show gets off to a promising start with a curtained entrance that reveals what looks like the corner of a historic house museum - curio cabinet, gold-framed landscapes, sage-green walls, white mouldings and all. But then you notice that the pattern on the curtains (by Bob Braine and Leslie Reed) is of poison ivy, and hear the sounds of some kind of ambient music wafting from a darkened theater area beyond the green walls, and you know you really are in the Tang after all.

An introductory text explains that the exhibition is organized around four themes (the Natural River, the Imagined River, the Human River, and the Working River) and that we are invited to perceive those themes on our own as they weave throughout the gallery. This lightly structured approach makes for low-pressure viewing and encourages the process of discovering relationships for ourselves.

As with some past shows here, this one tries to make the most of juxtaposing a broad range of techniques and technologies to tweak our interest and stimulate our synapses. While it may be pretty obvious to place a giant wood-and-brass steamboat steering wheel in front of a row of misty color photographs taken from a train window as it rolled along the river in 1999, it's still fun to contemplate their continuity.

More subtle is the pairing of a gutsy 1937 Bruce Mitchell gouache of the river and its industry with a trio of photos from 2006 by An-My Le that present the same subject matter from a similarly lofty point of view (a Le photo is shown above). One can't help but ask whether much has changed along this river in nearly a century of "progress."

Nearby, sober horizontal cases contain treasures as diverse as an antique postcard collection and three deeply satisfying works by the Ashcan School luminary John Marin. Not surprisingly, his two small sketches and medium-sized watercolor are as good as anything in the show.

Also nearby is the jewel in the crown of this show, and one of the great works of 19th-century American art: A stunningly modern landscape by Thomas Cole titled Storm King of the Hudson, which is on loan from Ball State University in Indiana. Though not of great size (maybe 24 by 36 inches) Storm King is so powerful that it would dominate the viewers' attention were it not intelligently given modest placement near the back of the room (you can see it at the bottom of this post).

Fortunately, the Cole is not alone in capturing our attention in this wide-ranging conglomeration. Other highlights include a desktop-sized computer monitor that runs a virtual aerial view of the river from bottom to top as seen on Google Earth (created for the show at a Skidmore lab using the Global Information Systems program); a very tasty 1931 lithograph of the New Hudson Bridge by Howard N. Cook; four mounted "fish" by Braine and Cook that are cast from polluting materials such as road salt and toilet paper; Maxine Henryson's Everyday series of photographs mentioned above; a large 2008 Yvonne Jacquette painting of quiet city reflections on the river at night; and an elegiac film installation by Alan Michelson.

If you have to see just one commemorative exhibition for the quadricentennial, this may be the one to choose. And, while you're there, you can go upstairs and check out a terrific 25-year retrospective of Tim Rollins and K.O.S. that will end on August 23rd. Featuring mostly very large paintings that span styles from graffiti to minimal, all inspired by "great literature," the show explores the impressive output of a collective that arose out of school workshops with the artist and his inner-city "kids of survival."