Nudes. Old country stores. Tattered visions of soldiers on the Confederate battle flag. Not many of us would put those images together, let alone present an exhibit that somehow links them in a coherent way.
Artist Bob Worthy manages it. His new show, “Looking Backward,” which will be on display at The Wounded Bookshop in Fredericksburg in September, has those three separate, very distinct themes running through it—but it works, somehow, once the viewer realizes that Worthy’s works are united by a kind of reminiscent melancholy.
This is not a “jump up and cheer” experience, but a “bring your thinking cap and ponder the way life was, is, and might have been” presentation.
In short, “Looking Backward” is a challenging exhibit. But of course some art is meant to do that—to make us think, to stretch our perspective. Art patrons and fans should come away from “Looking Backward” with an expanded understanding of how different concepts of the past can work together to form a synthesis in the present.
And they just might question where we’re going in the future. Seeing the image of a store that once represented someone’s life, and a town’s lifeblood, will do that.
Worthy is a resident of the Northern Neck region, with a long and accolade-laden career. He carries double art degrees from Virginia Commonwealth University, and his pieces are owned by collectors around the country and around the world. He works in a variety of media, from paint to photography, and is on the cutting edge of digital manipulation of photos.
Many of the pieces in this newest show are representative of that combo meal of traditional art and electronic manipulation.
This works best in the part of the exhibit called “The Country Store.” Here, the artist took pictures of various old, decaying stores seen along the roads in rural Virginia. Once home, the image was transferred into the computer and morphed.
The end result is a particularly nice use of sepia tones and weathered, textured layers—a use of ultra-modern technique with ageless tools like the brush and paint.
And on the most important level, it makes us sad, and it makes us think. For in its nostalgic beauty, the country store also represents an America from a bygone era, serene and neighborly, before cookie-cutter stores and drive-through convenience.
That same sense of wistful appreciation for how things used to be can be seen in part two of the exhibit, “Vintage Nudes.”
In an era when the human body has been graphically transferred into cold cash and soulless pornography on a thousand different Web sites, there is something ultimately renewing in seeing the naked human body captured and portrayed with purity and respect.
Worthy’s depictions of us at our most vulnerable—nude—are timeless. They often incorporate nature themes—a nude woman resting on a wild jumble of rocks, for instance. And while there’s nothing pornographic about it, there is a simple beauty to both the subject and her setting that defines passion better than the most graphic modern concept of sensuality.
Strangely, the third part of the show, “Antibody Warriors,” is the least effective. Worthy was inspired, after reading “Jacob’s Ladder,” by a phrase that described the dead soldiers lying among the living ones after a battle in the Civil War.
Worthy’s take on it, for this reviewer at least, is a stretch—showing naked men (meant to be soldiers) on top of Confederate battle flags using mixed media.
In part, it’s meant to show the soldier as a vulnerable man, bereft of the uniform and culturally imposed identity as a warrior. But the juxtaposition is less jarring and compelling than it is baffling—for one thing, we can’t make the assumption that the naked man is a soldier just because he is shown with an old flag. It needs, somehow, to have more of a Matthew Brady (famed Civil War photographer) feel.
Still, it’s well done. And the unique approach to portraying a concept deserves commendation for going out on a limb. Art being art, it’s all in the eye of the beholder. Some might find this the best theme in the show, and they might be right.
Two vintage thumbs up.
To reach DAVE SMALLEY:
540/374-5430
dsmalley@freelancestar.com