Reichel, Young share their aloha for Hawai'i

By Victoria Gail-White
Advertiser Art Critic

•	The Happy Show 11 a.m. to 6 p.m. Tuesday through Saturday; closed Thanksgiving The ARTS at Marks Garage 521-2903

The artists' reactions to the influences of advertising and the marketing of happiness are evident in works such as San Shoppell's "Cookies, Cakes & Pies Oh My!" Here is advertising at its best, complete with free samples. Placed on a pedestal with a homey place mat in a glass-domed cake stand is a batch of homemade "Linzer Thumbprint" cookies. Another pedestal, close by, holds the tongs, paper napkins and slick, professional recipe cards that match up with the cookies under the glass.

This seemingly innocent batch of cookies is a visual temptation. In this context, it is even more apparent that the hook for many of us is the presentation and representation. The cookies have wholesome ingredients and are constantly replenished. A small sign reads, "Help yourself," and you can. Everything about this piece is inviting, and yet...

Duncan Dempster's "Engine of Happiness," a light box with 12 interchangeable clear plastic panels, is equipped with headphones and a switch. When turned on, it plays what sounds like a scratchy old record. This may be Dempster's way of reminding us that no matter how we look at it, our pursuit of happiness (in blue or red or green, etc.), rather than the genuine experience of inner happiness, may be what is wearing us all down.

On an even darker note, Kandi Everett's watercolor "Happiness is the Extreme Discomfort of My Enemies," reads like a Marvel comic. The "extreme discomforts" are illustrated in separate framed black outlines: fever blisters, mosquito bites, a proctology examination, a bat bite, a hammered finger. One can only be happy that one is not her enemy or better yet, that this is not the Middle Ages.

On the lighter side, Christopher Reiner's mixed media "Lulu Bell" is a feast of "obtainium" (his word for found objects).

In it, a plastic reindeer from Santa's sleigh (Rudolph?) is equipped with electrified moving wings made of metal frames that hold pages of a dictionary. The left wing has a section that defines relationships and the right wing happiness.

Attached with a sense of purpose to the body of the reindeer are a whistle, a bell, a sewing machine bobbin, a faucet, a propeller, a magnifying glass, a thermometer, mahjong tiles made into a settee on a small tin drum, and a tiny lens that mirrors your image as you look into it.

The entire piece is evocative of a dream, an invention of the orderly ridiculous.

The three compelling color photographs of Elea Dumas — "Cirrus Smiles," "Cirrus Loves" and "Cirrus Beast" — capture a sense of the innocent ecstasy of childhood. Her son, the model for these photographs (instead of the many flowers that have inspired Dumas in the past), is caught in three action poses that blur his face but not his body or the immediacy of his expressions. Pure joy.

Upon leaving the exhibit, the unavoidable questions arise: We are roused to reflect upon what happiness really means.