ART REVIEW: "MUSTERING OUT"
Perspectives: by Christine Temin
The Boston Globe, 23 November 1989
Ken Hruby's provocative solo show.
"Sideburns must be neatly trimmed and will terminate in a horizontal line extending no lower then the bottom edge of a pencil inserted in the ear orifice" - a 1972 Army Regulation.
During the Vietnam war, some units proved how many enemy troops they'd killed by bringing back the ears of the dead.
Ken Hruby, a West Point grad, erstwhile combat soldier, and now n artist, created a dual response to the regulation the the ghoulish body-counting practice. His response is also a completely literal one. On a wall he has hung a long row of exceedingly life-like latex ears, in various skin tomes, scribbling a sideburn of an appropriate hair color next to each. Below the row is a metal chain, strung with more latex ears, which in this context look like charms on a grim bracelet.
Hruby's "Army Regulation 670-1 (Grooming)" is part of his provocative solo show at the Chapel Gallery, 60 Highland St., West Newton, through December 10. A professional soldier for over two decades, Hruby now confronts his feelings about the military in sculptures and assemblages that are, to their great credit, neither rancorous nor therapeutic. The "Regulation" piece - startling and simple - is far more effective than most blaring protest art. Its creepiness grabs you right off. Then the work prompts thoughts of how the military machine blots out individuality, how enemy ears are pretty much the same as those of the "good" guys, and how deeply ridiculous and tragic the whole enterprise of war is.
"Endless Column (Homage to Brancusi and 2nd Battalion, 9th Infantry)" is a 12 - foot tower of helmets in the familiar canned pea green color. The work's preposterous height suggests risk, exposure, the vulnerability of the infantryman on the front lines. The sheer number of helmets suggests anonymity, the notion that soldiers come in masses rather than one by one. In formal terms, Hruby's work milks the theme of repetition for all it's worth - appropriate, when you consider that military life is all about multiples. but there is something animal-like about the helmet tower, too, with its rhythmically repeating curved brims like a huge upended worm destined for bait.
"Welcome Home, Let's Dance" is a bunch of crutches suspended on wines from crossed pieces of wood. They're dangling puppets in crazed choreography that underscores the obvious - that anyone on crutches can't dance. Some crutches are curved, as if made out of rubber: They're dysfunctional, like the soldiers who must lean on them. The work is as pointedly cruel as a playground bully taunting a handicapped kid. Both title and image convey the idea that now that the soldiers are back, everything is hunky dory and they should get on with their lives, just forgetting what's happened to them.
Other works tackle different aspects of the military message. Camouflage helmets incorporating clay pots that sprout still lifes of greenery or dried leaves look as loony as a showgirl's top-heavy headdress. Greatly enlarged dog tags reduce the artist to some numbers, a blood type and a religious preference. A tower of new helmets, sealed in plastic, look ready for action in yet another human folly.