Robert Boyd
The last time I saw Debra Broz's work was in the New Art in Austin show in 2011. At the time, I thought it was a little overwhelmed in its museum setting, but I found it creepily charming. It seems more successful in her current show at GGallery--perhaps because it isn't competing against other much larger pieces. Her art is inherently delicate and dainty. It is similar in a way to Ann Wood's art--it combines the kitschy/cute with the horrific. The source material art little mass-produced ceramic animals made from slip. What Broz does is to slice them up and recombine them. She is the Dr. Moreau of tchotchkes.
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Debra Broz, Duck-faced Cat, 2013, found ceramic, sculpting compound, paint and sealer, 8 x 8 x 3"
On can only shudder to imagine the sick cross-breading experiments that produce the Duck-faced Cat.
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Debra Broz, Polar Creature, 2011, found ceramic, sculpting compound, paint and sealer, 5 x 5 x 3.5"
And we know global warming is causing arctic animals to make drastic adjustments, but no one expected to see polar bear/walrus hybrids.
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Debra Broz, Dove Box, 2009, found ceramic, sculpting compound, paint and sealer, 5 x 5 x 7"
Dove Box is perhaps the sickest piece because it is in a way the most plausible. Some environmental toxin--or perhaps the latest and greatest antibody added to feed--has caused these doves to grow extra beaks. The fact that they are posed on the lid of a little box, a place for grandma to keep some change or jewelry, accentuates the horror.
But the most horrific is Vestigal Twin Ducks.
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Debra Broz, Vestigal Twin Ducks, 2009, found ceramic, sculpting compound, paint and sealer, 12 x 12 x 7"
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Debra Broz, Vestigal Twin Ducks, 2009, found ceramic, sculpting compound, paint and sealer, 12 x 12 x 7"
This is what happens when you let a pair of lovely white ducks wander into the Large Hadron Collider by mistake.
The artist Broz reminds me of most is Wayne White. Both evidently haunt thrift stores and "antique" shops. Both find the cheap decorative items that our grandparents or great-grandparents might have used to decorate their working class abodes. And they add a layer of hipster irony that would have shocked the people who unironically decorated their homes with it long ago, but which today produces a wry smirk.
But irony is not all that Broz is playing at here. There is also the notion that nature is being compromised. These chimeras reflect our anxiety over environmental destruction, factory farming, GMOs, etc. When I look at them, the hip irony is battling with the nature anxiety. I suppose it depends on the individual viewer which aspect dominates.
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The last time I saw Debra Broz's work was in the New Art in Austin show in 2011. At the time, I thought it was a little overwhelmed in its museum setting, but I found it creepily charming. It seems more successful in her current show at GGallery--perhaps because it isn't competing against other much larger pieces. Her art is inherently delicate and dainty. It is similar in a way to Ann Wood's art--it combines the kitschy/cute with the horrific. The source material art little mass-produced ceramic animals made from slip. What Broz does is to slice them up and recombine them. She is the Dr. Moreau of tchotchkes.
Debra Broz, Duck-faced Cat, 2013, found ceramic, sculpting compound, paint and sealer, 8 x 8 x 3"On can only shudder to imagine the sick cross-breading experiments that produce the Duck-faced Cat.
Debra Broz, Polar Creature, 2011, found ceramic, sculpting compound, paint and sealer, 5 x 5 x 3.5"
And we know global warming is causing arctic animals to make drastic adjustments, but no one expected to see polar bear/walrus hybrids.
Debra Broz, Dove Box, 2009, found ceramic, sculpting compound, paint and sealer, 5 x 5 x 7"
Dove Box is perhaps the sickest piece because it is in a way the most plausible. Some environmental toxin--or perhaps the latest and greatest antibody added to feed--has caused these doves to grow extra beaks. The fact that they are posed on the lid of a little box, a place for grandma to keep some change or jewelry, accentuates the horror.
But the most horrific is Vestigal Twin Ducks.
Debra Broz, Vestigal Twin Ducks, 2009, found ceramic, sculpting compound, paint and sealer, 12 x 12 x 7"
Debra Broz, Vestigal Twin Ducks, 2009, found ceramic, sculpting compound, paint and sealer, 12 x 12 x 7"
This is what happens when you let a pair of lovely white ducks wander into the Large Hadron Collider by mistake.
The artist Broz reminds me of most is Wayne White. Both evidently haunt thrift stores and "antique" shops. Both find the cheap decorative items that our grandparents or great-grandparents might have used to decorate their working class abodes. And they add a layer of hipster irony that would have shocked the people who unironically decorated their homes with it long ago, but which today produces a wry smirk.
But irony is not all that Broz is playing at here. There is also the notion that nature is being compromised. These chimeras reflect our anxiety over environmental destruction, factory farming, GMOs, etc. When I look at them, the hip irony is battling with the nature anxiety. I suppose it depends on the individual viewer which aspect dominates.
