Sight Scene: Off the Walls

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Express contributor Kriston Capps profiles a new exhibition by local artist Christopher L. Williams, whose works blends with the scenery.

FOR THE NEW SCULPTURES in his solo show, Christopher L. Williams takes the gallery space as his source material — figuratively and literally. What seem to be permanent architectural adjustments to the space are plaster and fiberglass objects, painted to match the color of the gallery, which emerge from the walls as pitched geometric climbs and mutant organic globules. In Williams' work, the things growing out of gallery walls are a direct reflection of the state of affairs outside the gallery walls.

The Baltimore-based sculptor took a cue or two from the name and history of Dupont Circle's new Meat Market Gallery, where his work is on display. The "meat" of the show comes in the form of outgrowths protruding from the gallery walls — these pieces have globular shapes (a form familiar from Williams' previous Flashpoint show) but retain the drywall texture of the walls. The "market," then, takes the shape of the obelisk, the sharp-edged shape that juts repeatedly from the walls, floor and ceiling.

The show is called "Carnicería," a reference to the 17th Street NW space's former function as a butcher shop. The Spanish title has a political edge, which is clarified by texts that are repeated along the smooth edges and support structural elements throughout the installation. One line of text reads, "Living in America begins to alter one's understanding of oneself and others" — a snippet from an essay collection published by Harvard University's Center for Latin American Studies.

Williams' text draws together the labor role of the Latino community with the oblique visual metaphor for the free market (i.e., the obelisk, a familiar sign to D.C. residents). But he plays the same obelisk shape in another way. A different line of scrolling text reads, "no state must accept another state's definition" — copied-and-pasted right out of the Defense of Marriage Act. By plastering these lines over the obelisks, Williams challenges the freedoms that the obelisk ostensibly represents. (Dupont Circle is, after all, the local capital of the gay community — and, this writer might cheekily add, isn't it something of a "meat market" itself?)

Set in a blocky font, the repetitive jumble of words — in each case, an aphoristic clause — serves as a clear nod to text artist Glenn Ligon. Like Ligon, Williams surveys the political scene with his text pairings; Williams' work, however, lacks the literary feel that distinguishes other artists who use text. Williams' words are a clear marker — as an effort to get the point across, it's somewhat lacking in the subtlety department. His last jumble of text is lifted from a project by artists Neil Cummings and Marysia Lewandowska, a phrase to mediate the other two: "ensuring the health and stability of a network of interconnected relationships."

The ultimately optimistic message that Williams has crafted is offset by the distorted shapes of his sculptures. Place — the city, the neighborhood, even the building — is the theme broadly construed in Williams' site-specific show. It's perhaps too site specific: A snapshot, a slice of life in Dupont Circle, with much less to say about sculpture. (A series of five wall-hangable text studies anchors the show, though they're overshadowed by the impressive installation.)

Williams can take either "set" of shapes in promising directions: His organs in particular have a ghostly Charles Long quality. If the artistic direction forward isn't necessarily clear, the show does give a good sense of the state of things as they stand.

» Meat Market Gallery, 1736 17th St. NW, through Feb. 25; 202-328-6328 (Dupont Circle)

Photos courtesy Meat Market Gallery