Immersion is such a big topic, the two curators continued to explore it: What about when the artist immerses him- or herself in process and materials? How does immersion express itself as a theme in an artist's oeuvre? When does language enter the picture, or ritual? How about intimacy and sensuality?
All the possibilities overwhelm Sangster and Gluibizzi, and the result, although it features the work of a number of internationally-known artists, is all over the place. As a whole, it's more distracting and frustrating than immersive.
Sangster and Gluibizzi undercut their initial mission of exploring how to use space within the gallery by showing a large number of photographs, which hang flat on a wall and don't challenge the viewer's sense of space. Sculptures prompt a kinesthetic, visceral response in which the viewer's body enters into a relationship with the art object. Looking at a photograph is more imaginative than physical. To intersperse the two is like serving roast beef and molten chocolate cake at the same time. They just don't work together. Indeed, they work against each other.
The sculptural pieces are delightful. The late Felix Gonzalez-Torres's ''Untitled (Lover Boy)" pays tribute to his lover with a stack of blue paper 71/2 inches tall, sitting right in the middle of the gallery. It conflates minimalism, which can be sterile, with intimacy. The height of the stack refers to the length of a phallus; its weight approximates that of a couple. Visitors can walk out with a sheet of paper, a standard Gonzalez-Torres conceit that allows viewers to own and change the art.
Fred Sandback, who died last year, defined space with simple, taut spans of acrylic yarn. Here, a stretch of maroon yarn reaches from the wall out a few feet to the floor, intruding into the viewer's space. The angle, the color, the material, the single line reaching into three dimensions all disrupt expectations of what art is, where it belongs, and how we physically move past it.
