Attendance at Rich Timperio’s (Williamsburg own impresario) annual opening night come one, come all group grope of a salon style conglomeration of mostly little known artists hepped-up on even the remote possibility of being noticed, is always invigorating.
If there were any doubt concerning survival of the clan of “The Hardscrabble Group” after a couple of rough years for continuing art production without much compensation (job or art related), this exhibit should quell such worry.
Even the live chicken (a fancy looking, well quaffed bird at that) in its cage (metaphor?) mounted directly over the entryway door seemed keen on networking.
To quote from Mr Timperio’s press release:
You don’t find yourself playing in this, or any other Timperio scenario by way of a letter of recommendation. Nor does he pour through slides. His door is open, the work makes it way to him to talk or howl to him in person, as in the good old days, in this case still here and now.
Timperio is a Prospero who by arcane magic commands some Ariel to conjure up this whirlwind of mostly shattered, vacated, and fractured images; so when it hits you in the eye like a big pizza pie, if you don’t immediately know its amore, hang in.
|My sculpture piece between pink canvas and swirly star.|
|Jeanne's crotchet piece above black squares.|
|Vincent Dion, top row, second from left w/ frame.|
|Lydia Viscardi, fish image, right.|
|Trying to get in.|
|The Big Shove.|