JAMES GRIGSBY
Hard Coin exploits the tension between psychological time and running time, and with stunning results. The set for Hard Coin, designed by Lonn L. Frye, consists of a multileveled cubic structure pasted over with grossly enlarged fragments of what seem to be advertising billboards; these feature smiling, squeaky-clean all-American types. To the right of this structure, hanging from MoMing’s cavernous ceiling, is a broad wooden swing that holds an antique porcelain doll and a vase decked out with ancient artificial flowers. To the left hangs a huge blue disk with a bright yellow “T” painted across it; a single red hand on its face points straight up.
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So upon walking into the theater, the audience is immediately asked to reflect on time. An “event” is obviously going to happen on the cubic structure in “real time,” probably to be kept track of by the huge clock. But not only is the clock’s face blank and therefore useless, but because it hangs from the ceiling, time is literally suspended–just as the relics from the past are suspended on the swing. I cannot recall sitting in a theater and being so challenged by an artist’s set.
His second piece, From Here to Detroit, seemed a bit thinner to me, although perhaps I simply couldn’t take it all in after being so overwhelmed by Hard Coin. From Here to Detroit explores finding one’s bearings. Grigsby literally tries to find his way around the stage; by the end of the piece, he’s trying to find his way out of the theater using an inflatable globe. He also explores the complexity of finding one’s psychological bearings, of understanding the self in relation to others when each self is its own distinct universe. Throughout the piece he constructs onstage an elaborate machine–designed by an inspired Jim Janecek–built out of old drainpipes, ladders, and what I think is a bicycle wheel. Clearly this machine is supposed to offer some remedy for his predicament, to offer him some guiding inspiration. Indeed, when he is finally about to plug it in, bright light and heavenly music pour down on him.
Art accompanying story in printed newspaper (not available in this archive): photo/Tom Palazzolo.
