Domig’s figures are, indeed, autonomous, as the exhibition’s flyer describes. But they slip in and out of materiality, as if to nod back to their creator, in deference.
It took courage on Castleman’s part to organize a show that exposed both himself and a number of his friends to the scrutiny and criticism of a traditionally secular industry that tends to react against rather than promote religious work. For me, the dialogue that surrounded the show was more significant than the fact that I had work hanging in it.
Whenever I walk towards the austere building, I’m struck anew by the genius of its placement in a cozy neighborhood where people live, the true life of a city. The idea of sanctuary comes alive between the quiet streets.
The Mütter museum claims to tell stories about the human experience, and as I swallowed my squeamishness and faced specimens in jars, I realized the morbid collection resonates with Christian ideas of truth, goodness, and even beauty.
For the trophy wife, the revolutionary, the avant-garde artist, salons have always been about standing up to the status quo.