Artist iris yirei hu’s exhibition at Visitor Welcome Center is a sincere recognition of her "soul sister," essayist emi kuriyama, who passed away a year ago. Her takes a shot at canvas and texture are by turns wildly inchoate and peacefully grave, blending typical symbolism with portions from kuriyama's works. There's something undisciplined about this blend is likely a result of hu's inability — she is still an MFA student — yet the show is moving as a wild articulation of sorrow.
The display traverses two rooms, each painted a profound ultramarine blue. In the principal hang two woven artwork like artistic creations. "I eat your body and drink your blood" is a pastiche of symbolism. There is a rabbit confined in the moon, Dracula and an expansive match of open hands, alongside the work's title rendered in floppy, set pattern letters or sewed into texture boards. Hung over a nearby window is "sonogram," which overlays the well known cone-formed indicative picture with a twirling design whereupon a winged lady brings forth a blue sphere. Both works are associated by "placenta," a vast, curved texture rope lying on a knit amidst the floor.
Albeit a great part of the symbolism is murky the works have an exceptional, dream-like quality revolved around ideas of birth, change and relinquish. Especially influencing is hu's reference to the tale of the rabbit in the moon in which the rabbit, having nothing to offer an eager hobo, tosses himself on the fire.
Give up additionally shows up in a basic work of dark weaving on burlap. It exhibits an extract from a kuriyama ballad that describes her grandma's orders for outrageous survival situations, up to and including human flesh consumption. Dracula's appearance in the other room bodes well now, and the muddled fierceness of hu's commitment gets to be distinctly unmistakable.
The show additionally offers a gift of kuriyama's poetry, from which a great part of the content in hu's works determines. The ballads are very wonderful investigations of her Japanese American childhood (regardless of being grandiosely punctuated) and help us comprehend hu's misfortune all the more distinctly.
Visitor Welcome Center, 3006 W. 7th St., Suite 200A, (213) 703-1914, through March 4. Closed Sunday through Tuesday. www.visitorwelcomecenter.org