LIGHTS FANTASTIC: THE FALL SEASON RISES
Last year, “Autumn Lights” nestled comfortably in the crook of its season, so that dusk fell relatively early and there was even a chill in the air. This year, however, the annual festival heralds the equinox, erupting at what in these parts is normally the hottest time of year. But, even if the sun can stick around to check out the competition, the air might again be mellow to the point of nippy, given the kind of non-summer we’ve had. Who knows? There may even be drizzle. But that’s part of the adventure an outdoor art festival affords.
Another part of that adventure is the viability of the structures – especially the current-driven parts – proffered by the participants in “Autumn Lights.” Some artists will erect sturdy, even massive installations that would defy the challenge of a sizeable temblor. Others, however, will emulate a more delicate side of nature (and nurture), fabricating gentle, even ethereal presences who threaten to disappear altogether into the evening’s gloam. Of course, there will be those whose wiring will prove especially ethereal, causing their objects, no matter how durable, to sulk more or less invisibly in the dark. But that, too, is part of the unpredictability, part of the risks that artists and visitors alike take in embracing such an undertaking.
The risk of such failure, in fact, has diminished mightily since the first time an artist plugged an artwork into an electrical socket. Energy use has become more assured (and less demanding on the environment) in the last half-century, and these days the gremlins are more likely to attack the digital program than the wiring. The installations in “Autumn Lights” may not be quite as foolproof as your average amusement park rides, but they’re a good deal safer.
Which is to say that “Autumn Lights” is only one part amusement park to several parts art show – although it is inarguably a first-order spectacle, an ooh-and-ah event, an art place, a thing you gather at (or kick yourself later for not gathering at), a whole that may or may not be larger than the sum of its parts but that definitely is something else besides that sum. In that sense it may be as much the waning season’s last hurrah as the burgeoning season’s introduction – a summation of summer, a pride of artists that comes before the fall.Peter Frank
Peter Frank is art critic for the Huffington Post and Adjunct Senior Curator at the Riverside Art Museum
