Fjords Reviews

by Andrew H. Sullivan

I’ve been following artist Peter Gerakaris around NYC from his all-too-temporary rooftop piece, Floating Garden, at the upper east side’s the Surrey Hotel to his hidden gallery exhibition, Ventanas, at the FXFOWLE architectural studio in the Flat Iron neighborhood, and felt it a natural progression to check out his work as a part of the Transplants: Greek Diaspora Artists exhibition at the quiet Shiva Gallery, part of the John Jay College of Criminal Justice. Enter the quiet, well-thought-out space in the middle of the block off of 11^th Ave., between 59^th and 58^th streets. You’ll be met by a polite and laconic gallerist who, even when you turn the corner and stand too close to the art, will let you have your reign, your experience, and, thus, your time to yourself to interact with your thoughts—because, at least for me, that’s the end game of art-viewing.

Peter’s work is along the first wall, adjacent the gallerist desk and is striking upon entry. He’s loaned a triptych and two individual works to the gallery, though they’ve all been sold. These pieces mark a transition of sorts, not from the thoughtful to something mundane—never that, from Gerakaris—but from synecdoche and centrifugal energy to something full-formed, and gorgeously centripetal. Gerakaris has turned his eye to history, to his heritage in a way, and brought back the Icon’s of Byzantine, Greek, and Eastern Christendom. Instead of venerated religious figures, saints and biblical stories, however, Gerakaris has chosen to honor animalia, owls in particular.

The owls are a close-to-authentic reproduction in terms of the techniques used hundreds of years ago, down to the glue coating but for one modern ingredient instead of egg yolk. Understandable, but also impressive. (Gerakaris, I know, plans on working in this style for the next while, and I’ll be getting into the minutiae of creating these pieces in the future—stay tuned.)

I was the only person in the gallery until I ventured from the deep corners looking at Lale’s Between Two Continents Off Broadway, a combination of fabric and painted canvas, almost losing myself completely in Costas Picadas’ Quark Tunneling—an amazing replication of placelessness through photography and an almost-pointillism—and toured each installation several times, a wonderful luxury.

Yet, I kept returning to take in the gold-leaf and bold coloration of White-Faced Owl Icon, and then really connecting with Spotted Owl Triptych Icon. Something emotional emerged from the work at first glance that I’d be curious to know if a similar feeling welled up in others. These pieces shine—literally and metaphorically—amidst dozens of others by prominent, well-accomplished artists. Gerakaris’ work strikes on a visceral level as well as high concept, which any followers of the artist will be familiar with. They have the benefit of history behind them being homage to religious artwork and artifacts that were popular some time ago. No saints here. Owls filled the prominent space of the work, with a few peripheral animals and native species related to the owl and its natural range and place of habitat. The big picture offered a lot, but so too did the details, when I peered closer and saw the crinkling of gold leaf and layering of bright varied colors in the feathering of the birds.

The gallery was mainly and generously empty space, which made it easy to turn and turn and dervish my way from piece to piece, look rapidly at one then another, crawl under an enormous spider and really focus on the texture of Konstantinos Stamatiou’s Inside II. But I kept wanting to see the owls, again, or, at least, I told myself, one final time before leaving. I felt imprinted or else hypnotized in a way: pathos, erudition; or maybe I just really like animals and appreciate Gerakaris offering them in an act of apotheosis—let us be concerned for the creatures of the world and return to a place where we venerate the natural and appreciate the wonder of different forms of Beingness.

Alas, I arrived on the later side and the gallerist permitted me a generous over-stay beyond closing, so I snapped a few photos, took care to write down some of the more complicated names, and hurried out into the city with a feeling akin to wonder, a refreshing state of mind for a “seen-everything” New Yorker.

Hurry to this exhibition because it closes soon, June 28^th—all too soon. There are some great artists present in the collection, from Gerakaris to Eozen Agopian, Georgia Lale, and Pedro Barbeito in addition to 30 other artists. The Gallery was a hidden gem of an experience, for sure—go and have it for yourself and feel enriched like the echoes of history made sound waves from the past and, mixed with a variety of materials, ended up in the now for us, the West, to see then-and-now and future all in one—a thought-art-time experiment.