Kehler Liddell Gallery is suffering an infestation — of metal beetles and painted moths, courtesy of the work of artists William Kent and Gar Waterman. Together, in the show “Pest Control,” running at the Westville gallery through March 13, they offer commentary on another kind of pest problem altogether.
As an accompanying note about beetles explains, “there are a number of species of wood boring beetles killing millions of trees in several regions of the country right now.… Milder winters limit insect populations less effectively, so the infestations are getting worse.” But then the tone takes a turn. “We regard these creatures as pests when their number and dietary habits don’t coincide with our own interests, but the environmental irony is clear here: the beetles wreaking havoc on our forests are simply doing what they do — they are opportunists, just like us. It is, however, the human race that rules as the unequivocal master of destruction, with a 7 billion plus population devouring finite resources in a fossil fueled rush towards a catastrophically warmed world. A quick look in the mirror reveals the true pest on this planet, and it’s not the beetles.”
“The point” of the show, Waterman said with a laugh, “is obvious.… Someone pointed out that Bill and I shared a somewhat cynical and dark view of the human race, and said, ‘it’s really not cynical, it’s just realistic.”
William Kent, who died in 2012, was a self-taught artist who created his own method for printmaking by carving in slate, without using a press. “His style was anything but subtle — heavy irony delivered with stark humor, societal idiocies reduced with relish to graphic conundrums,” the accompanying text reads. He enjoyed a series of shows and sales to museums in his lifetime, even as he worked by himself in a studio in Durham. Shortly before his death, he helped create the William Kent Foundation to preserve his artistic legacy and draw attention to the work of other older living artists.
Waterman was introduced to Kent through a mutual acquaintance a couple years before Kent died. “She was a collector of Bill’s and said, ‘you got to meet this guy,’ ” Waterman recalled. “He was such an unusual character that she thought I would get a kick of meeting him.” Kent’s home and studio were a “falling-down house and barn” in Durham “that is so stuffed with his lifetime of work that you can’t believe it when you go in there. Hundreds if not thousands of pieces of his artwork fill this place. And now, 10 years after his death, I’m on the board of this little foundation.” They hope to sell his work, with the proceeds given to elderly needy artists. Waterman, who had a slot in Kehler Liddell’s schedule, decided on this posthumous collaboration in part to draw some attention to Kent and the foundation.
“Above and beyond that,” he said, “I also wanted to do this because there’s the obvious connection with the insects between us. We both love insect forms. I knew that if Bill were still around, he would love hammering home this point about pest control.” It is, in fact, what one of the pieces in the show is directly about. Waterman is glad to see Kent’s pieces framed and lit in a gallery rather than in the clutter of his studio. It’s easy to see why; in the space and light of the gallery’s walls, the colors pop and sometimes shimmer, revealing the humor embedded within the serious points Kent is making.
Waterman’s pieces, in the context of the show, deploy the same double bind. The steel of his insects serves partially as a series of funhouse mirrors. confounding who’s the real pest in this relationship. But it also deploys what Waterman perceives as an old yet very effective device: changing the scale of an object lets you see it again fresh. Freakishly large insects are a staple of horror and science fiction movies — which sometimes mix in comedy as well. Like the best works in those genres, Waterman is out to get us to shift our perspective.
But Waterman’s craft and devotion to the insect forms are also statements in themselves. His pieces let us get up close and personal with the details of the structures and textures of a beetle’s body, more than a magnifying glass would provide, more than most of us will ever see. Beneath the horror, the comedy, and the disorientation is fascination, and perhaps a newfound respect — from one pest to another.
“Pest Control” runs through March 13 at Kehler Liddell Gallery, 873 Whalley Ave. Visit the gallery’s website for hours and more information.