It's Back! - Oklahoma Visual Arts Coalition

Bradley Jessop
Blue Yodel #2
Monotype and mixed media
Ace Cuervo’s
24 Hours from Tulsa By Janice McCormick
Unlike Ian and Sylvia’s song of the same
name, Ace Cuervo’s 24 Hours from Tulsa
(recently at Holliman Gallery, Holland Hall
campus) captures not a physical distance
from Tulsa, but rather a psychological
distance experienced while within Tulsa’s
city limits. The titles to all of Cuervo’s
black and white photographs merely
state the exact time they were taken. His
approach to the traditional subject matter
of cityscape and architectural detail has
a decidedly post-modern flair with its
highly self-reflexive emphasis on the nature
of photographic images as images. He
achieves this by deliberately misemploying
photographic techniques: over exposure
when taking the picture or underexposure
when printing (2:20pm); jostling the camera
during a very long exposure resulting in
wavy lines of light (1:26am, 1:45am); and
simply leaving it out of focus (2:38pm).
Among these images of Tulsa’s urban
environment, there are familiar architectural
landmarks: the old Mayo Hotel (3:08pm),
the soon-to-be-demolished Denver Grill (1:
27pm; 1:14pm), and the Admiral Twin Drivein
Theater (10:22am). Even a new landmark
is tossed in for good measure - the retro-
Art-Deco downtown Bus Station (3:17pm).
Yet, such familiarity does not bring comfort.
Something is lacking. It takes a moment to
realize that there are no people in this city.
The very purpose for this architecture – to
serve human needs – remains unfulfilled. You
can almost hear the hollow footsteps of the
photographer on an empty street.
2:20pm, a large 17” by 22” photograph,
captures the sweep of an extended overpass as
viewed from below. Its concrete arc dominates
the entire image. As it hovers over and curves
away from you, a palpable sense of distance
separates you from the bleached-out cityscape
beyond. The “T” shaped concrete supports
and steel guardrail heighten this separation.
Here, the image’s large blank white areas
(deliberately the result of improper exposure)
amplify the barrenness of the scene.
1:45am strikes the viewer as a drive-by shot
of the cityscape taken at night from afar.
Jiggling the camera while set on a long
exposure distorts the lights of skyscrapers and
lampposts into sharply delineated streaks, bars
and tildes. The resulting rhythmic liveliness
contrasts with the rather dark, uneventful
sky and totally black foreground. Reflecting
on this liveliness, you realize that it comes
not from the city itself, but rather from the
photographer’s actions. For all you see, this is a
dead city. Furthermore, this blurred skyline of
unremarkable, late modern glass-boxes (which
could be any where in the world) leaves you
disoriented and wondering, “Am I the only
one here? And, where am I, anyway?”
Several signs crop up through out the exhibit,
but one in particular caught and held my
attention. The lit neon sign in 9:53pm reads:
“COUPLE $28 / Gateway Motor Hotel
/ WKLY EXTENDED STAY / RATES
STARTING AT $22/ SLEEP AMERICAN.”
At first, the cartoon-like Uncle Sam holding
a stars and stripes suitcase brings a smile
because of its folksy charm. But, when
coupled with the phrase “Sleep American”,
it takes on an unwelcoming and excluding
tone. And, you feel a bit sheepish for having
found it amusing.
With only traces of human activity found
(a sun-lit but empty sidewalk - 4:25pm, an
unmanned bike leaning against a bar or liquor
store wall - 1:52pm, and a motel sign lit up
to attract sleepy passer-bys - 9:53pm), it is
startling and rather surreal to find human
faces. But, these faces turn out to be images
in the mural on the south-facing wall of the
Denver Grill (1:14pm), taken in December
2004. On a larger-than-life scale and painted
in an awkward manner, the heads of Marilyn
Monroe, James Dean and Elvis Presley peer
out across a broad and empty stretch of gravel.
All their color drained away by the black and
white photograph portends their imminent
destruction by the bulldozer.
Breaking with the traditional, objective
documentary approach that merely records
what is present, Cuervo explores his own
complex and ambivalent reactions to Tulsa by
manipulating various photographic processes.
And, in the process, he creates a psychic
distance that allows us to look at Tulsa from a
different perspective.
11