Re-contextualize this Aaron Stephan takes over SPACE BY SARAH MORNEAU

" Where’s the motorcycle? " I ask Todd Bernard, proprietor of the SPACE gallery, having been mysteriously drawn to the specific tag on the wall referencing seemingly invisible art. It says " ‘Regarding Serra’ . . . motorcycle and 2X4. " Todd points to the ceiling. I blurt out a lame and gleeful exclamation, and I’m in Aaron Stephan’s out-of-context zone.

There is an emptiness to SPACE. The resounding color of the exhibition upon entry is gray, even though works are specifically black, beige, white, brown, and gray. The show has an unassuming nature that is inviting. The subtlety of color does not mute the healthy dialectic the art inspires, pitting your brain’s freedom of perspective against the evil empire of language.

Serving as appetizers to the meat of the show are two altered, wooden yardsticks on the wall. One is reshaped into a " Three Foot Circle. " Another is simply twisted and titled " Twisted Yard. " The unadorned displacement from normalcy is refreshing and serves to set the tone of the experience. Also, " Slight of Time, " a silver pocket watch with its glass broken and arms upturned to the sky, exemplifies the artist’s tendency toward the destruction of contextual evidence. These pieces are strikingly simple and elegantly hint at Stephan’s challenge.

I approach a cluster of white pedestals entitled " Pedantics " wondering why the tops of which are unconventionally devoid of sculpture. Upon noticing the pairs of shoes at the base of each pedestal I get it, so to speak. The point of interest is not where one would expect it. Furthermore, the sculptor has arranged the average-sized pedestals in groups of twos and three, and one could imagine that they appear to be in conversation, based on the positioning of the pairs of feet. Stephan is throwing the very definition of pedestal out the window. The show is full of surprises! Good luck not experiencing a coronary event when the Venetian blinds are activated by motion sensors.

On the other side of the gallery, there is a fairly self-explanatory " Rocking Pedestal. " And in case you were wondering what a pedestal that has been shot in the chest by a 12 gauge shotgun looks like, there is Stephan’s " Burden of Morris " on display.

And, in a sort of Corinthian " fuck that " to the conventional use of literature, Stephan cuts and crumples pages from The Wonderland of Knowledge to form " Untitled " (a book column).

There are two antique photographs in classic, silver frames hung on opposing walls of the gallery. A gentleman and a lady, neither is identified as an historical personality. Both are " Untitled " and they each feature an arsenal of life-sized flies meticulously constructed out of pages from Roland Berthe’s Camera Lucida. The " Untitled " of the west wall pays tribute to the entire exhibition’s brilliant use of space, as many of its flies are congregated in and around actual holes in the gallery’s wall, near the floor. These pieces seem to grow out of themselves. The photograph is no longer confined to a frame, rather it is framed by a flock of flies that sit on the portrait’s face and spread onto the wall, respecting no boundaries. The flies sculpturalize the photograph.

Many of Stephan’s pieces are untitled for good reason. He is attempting to strip the objects of their concrete identity given to them by language. According to his many artist statements, Stephan is a little disenchanted by the laziness language allows us. That is to say, the inherent associative, and perhaps archaic, nature of language incarcerates objects in given contexts. The liberation occurs in turning a book into flies or a column. In this process, which Stephan calls " re-contextualization, " the word " book " becomes obsolete. By relying on the preconceived system of naming, we are disabling our own minds from discovering new prospects in contextualization. Therefore, Stephan’s work, in his own words, " pries open the gap between perception and understanding — leaving a space for a re-evaluation of individual perception. "

Whatever you do, don’t leave the show without checking out the hidden treasure in the basement. Following the sound of methodical construction (and the signs with arrows), past the bathrooms and down some stairs, I end up at the door to the underground level of SPACE. Is it a portal to another dimension where mechanical babies make themselves? No, it’s Aaron Stephen’s masterpiece called " Lop. " The basement’s not been purged of all its natural debris for the installation. There is a disheveled floral couch in the background, some large sheets of glass, dirty wooden pallets, and another piece of tan furniture among other dusty valuables. Under a spotlight, in the center of the room, is a motor with a human boot attached to one flank, insanely walking in circles, loudly. It’s stirring up two-by-fours and limping violently on a portable floor.

" Weighing My Options, " is an entirely evocative and surprising one, with each sculptural element contributing to the overall tone of the simultaneously subtle and shocking expedition into disorientation. The questions the show asks are far from rhetorical, yet they don’t demand answers. The exhibit thrives in the muted color scheme and the reticent authenticity of the SPACE gallery. I wouldn’t miss this inspired experience if I were you.

Sarah Morneau can be reached at golfgirl223@hotmail.com

" Weighing My Options " shows at SPACE, in Portland, through April 1. Call (207) 828-5600.