Bruce Ackerson Puts Whimsy Back into Art

 

Bruce Ackerson

Birds-Eye Views

Fine Arts Center, University of Massachusetts Amherst

Through May 14, 2021

Artist Website: https://bruceackerson.net/section/225137.html

 

 

 

I was only passingly familiar with the works of Northampton-based artist Bruce Ackerson until the UMass Fines Art Center launched an exhibit of his paintings titled Birds-Eye Views. It is, of course, exceedingly difficult to get to see the exhibit at present, but Ackerson has a superb Website of all that is in the UMass exhibit and more that is not.

 

 

 

Birds-Eye Views is an apt title, but it also a limiting one. Ackerson does skew our vision by placing our eyes in the sky and forcing us to gaze downward. In this regard, he reminds me a bit of Grant Wood. “Boxcar Getaway,” for instance, is fraught with danger reminiscent of Wood’s “Death on Ridge Road.” The survival odds are low for the figure attempting to allude his pursuers by leaping off a cliff onto a moving train. “Baddy Redpants” has a better chance; he has used a moving flock of sheep to put distance between himself and those chasing him. Ackerson, though, is East Coast to Wood’s Midwest, suburban to his rural, and is more interested in keeping us off balance than in inducing pathos. 

 

 

Ackerson perhaps also echoes Wood in that his style might be called deliberate primitivism. If you’re going to defy perspective, go whole hog. Don’t worry about table legs that don’t look to be 3-D, walls that lean, or cartoon-like figures. According to the UMass writeup, Ackerson’s is an “imaginative take on popular culture, modern life and the hidden world of the human psyche.” In works such as “Artist” or “Artists and Collectors,” we are not sure if the central figure is showing us a canvas or a picture window that opens onto the real world.   

 

What will strike most people is Ackerson’s sharp, often surreal sense of humor. For all the high-falutin’ ways one could describe Ackerson’s works, his own take is that a lot of it is simply “goofy.” It’s hard not to love the lack of pretense in that description. It’s also hard not to see that he’s right. “Port-o-Pool” is dips in the back of a semi; “Girls Having Fun” is three women giving two lads an eyeful, but from their perch atop a cliff the boys can’t access. Ever wonder what Santa does in the off-season? “Walk in the Woods” will inform you. If you’ve had it up to your eyeteeth with burly males throwing their weight around, check out “Two Macho Men” and let me know your preferred outcome. “Saving Timmy” will raise a snort from anyone old enough to remember the TV show Lassie.

 

 

There are several themes that come through in Ackerson’s works beyond perspective and humor. One is that a lot of them are set at the beach. This probably linked to the time he spends in Provincetown on Cape Cod; its Rice Polak Gallery is where many of Ackerson’s works are for sale.  He enjoys depicting running figures bolting out of pools or across cliffs and sand dunes, then adds twists of why they’re in a hurry. “Swimming and Cake” and “Cake Time” are mad dashes out of the water and toward a groaning board laden with yummy delights. An even funnier take on his predilection for food themes is “Pizza!” It’s as if training for the Olympics ceased to indulge in rapture that comes in a crust. Ackerson enhances the illusion via an aerial perspective that makes it look as if servers are bearing sacred offerings.

 

He also indulges us in other fantasies. “Presents for Everyone!” is the way life should be. In a different vein, “Strap-on Wings” evokes a low-altitude training school for a would-be Icarus. Think you’ve had a bad day? “One Thing After Another” will make you feel better. “Joggers” is an amusing-if-ominous sprint that (perhaps) is a backdoor commentary on those who claim the world dates only to 4,004 BCE.

 

If I had to pick one of Ackerson’s painting as my favorite, the honor would go to “Spaghetti Night.” Mom and dad y fancy themselves as jugglers and are attempting the famed “pass” maneuver, except instead of Indian clubs they are tossing pasta-and-sauce-filled plates across the room with predictable results. Three children look on, two with arms out in a supplicative manner as their airborne dinners splatter onto the floor. It appeals to my boyhood sense of wonder and mirth. I admire an artist who makes me laugh aloud instead of muttering over affectations and pretense.

 

Rob Weir