Thomas Chimes: Adventures in 'Pataphysics
Philadelphia Museum of Art
26th St. and Benjamin Franklin Pkwy
Until May 6, Tue-Sun, 10 a.m. - 5 p.m; $8-12, donations requested on Sundays
(215) 763-8100
www.philamuseum.org
'Pataphysicists don't bother with the trappings of modern science; they leave lab coats and telescopes coats to the Nobel set. Never heard of it? 'Pataphysics is what you get when metaphysics - the branch of philosophy that seeks to explain the world's mysteries - starts to seem a bit restrictive. As Alfred Jarry (the 19th century French absurdist, of course) explained, 'pataphysics is simply "the science of imaginary solutions."
Understandably, most people regard 'pataphysics as a pseudoscience. After all, what self-respecting discipline starts with an apostrophe instead of a real letter? But for artist Thomas Chimes, 'pataphysics has as much credibility as the rest of the planet gives that malarkey chart known as the periodic table.
Murky concepts like 'pataphysics and obscure figures like Antonin Artaud (the 20th century French intellectual, obvs) have been the bread and butter of Chimes' 50-year-plus career. Born in Philadelphia in 1921 and having worked in the city for most of his life, Chimes is now enjoying a retrospective exhibit at the Philadelphia Museum of Art. A quick glance around the gallery will reveal that Chimes' pieces are not unified by a single style, medium or palette, but rather an underlying sense of Chimes' eccentric, and at times, erudite, persona.
The exhibit's chronological organization provides a timeline of his evolving artistic mindset. All throughout, we hear the staid tones of Chimes himself - a recording of him reading an Alfred Jarry book emanates from the gallery's center.
Chimes' first mature work was a '50s and '60s series on crucifixions. In oil paintings featuring bright colors and oversize crosses, he reflected on his Greek orthodox upbringing and evoked the work of Henri Matisse.
But in the mid-'60s, Chimes switched gears completely, temporarily abandoning paint for 3-D mixed media creations known as "metal boxes." Shiny and silver, some of these boxes have on/off switches and look like they could be sold at Radio Shack. Others contain references to Da Vinci, human hair or the hidden visages of 20th century icons like Mick Jagger. Chimes (rather high-mindedly, as usual) intended his boxes to reflect the ideas of theorist Marshall "The Medium is the Message" McLuhan.
But the technology obsession didn't last - when Chimes moved on, he moved back, taking up portraiture on wood panels. In many of these portraits we meet the merry cast of characters that inspired him throughout his career, because as we quickly to find out, he cites his influences about as often as most artists dip their brushes in paint. It's strange and maybe a little pretentious, but it provides an interesting contrast to Chimes' pop-art contemporaries - it's nice to know that while Warhol was stirred by soup cans and Lichtenstein was grooving on comic books, someone was thinking about the Marcels: DuChamp and Proust.
Chimes' most recent stage has been white paintings, ghostly images where the foreground is hardly distinguishable from the background. As with all of his work, they give off the feeling that there's some deeper 'pataphysical concept we're failing to grasp. And this, perhaps, is Chimes' best trick of all.
