Overheated times

Dogg Days, the new solo exhibit in the Jacki Headley University Art Gallery at Chico State, is either two shows in one or one show in two parts. Take your pick.

The artist is Trong Gia Nguyen, who was born in Vietnam in 1971, has lived most of his life in America, but for the past three years has resided in Ho Chi Minh City, the former Saigon. His exhibit—his last completely American show, at least for a while, he says—showcases both previous and new works, the latter having been created during a recent six-week residency in Chico.

The exhibit opened Aug. 30 with a reception at the gallery and an artist’s lecture and slide show in the Zingg Recital Hall. The following day, Nguyen returned to Vietnam.

For the exhibit, the gallery has been divided into two separate rooms holding two distinct presentations, one titled Dogg Days, the other titled Neo Theo. The works in the former are mostly new, while those in Neo Theo were created previously.

The two exhibits share a desire to make, or illustrate, a subtle kind of socio-political statement. The main difference between them is organizational: Whereas Dogg Days is a collection of independent works that share certain themes but otherwise are unique, Neo Theo’s many parts comprise a single whole. In the center of the back wall is a version of the original Betsy Ross American flag. Subtly creased into the flag’s fabric is an appeal: “Help me,” it says, as if to suggest that the values the flag stands for are under assault.

On the other walls are about two dozen small, framed photos of hands saluting the flag using the original Bellamy salute created to accompany the Pledge of Allegiance. That salute was abandoned during World War II because it looked too much like the fascist salute used by the Nazis.

Finally, there’s an audio element: a looped recording of children reciting the Pledge of Allegiance, but with the words “under God”—which were added to the pledge in 1954, during the depths of the Cold War—excised.

Together these elements—flag, hands, truncated pledge—ask the viewer to ponder how American iconography and the values it represents have changed over the years.

The title Dogg Days—a reference to the hot, enervating days of late summer—serves triple duty as the title of the overall exhibit, the title of one of the two parts of the exhibit, and the title of a specific piece in this show. Is Nguyen being purposely confusing? Hard to tell. What is certain is that he demands that viewers participate in creating it—it’s a call to action, he says.

Outside resources—gallery curator Kelly Lindner’s excellent posted statement, an interview of the artist included in the exhibit’s elegant brochure (designed by Stanley Boos)—serve as guides helping viewers to go deeper into the pieces. Ultimately, though, it’s up to us to spend enough time with them to squeeze out their fascinating content.

For example, what to make of “Win Win (Beauty Queen),” a bright pink ping-pong table whose near half protrudes from a mirrored wall, so that viewers are able to play against their own reflections?

Nguyen clearly isn’t afraid to be enigmatic. Take “The Rain in Spain,” which we’re told is based on the Francisco Goya antiwar masterpiece “The Third of May 1808.” The Goya is a rightly famous painting of a wartime execution by firing squad, but it’s hard to see that in Nguyen’s piece, which looks like a dart board stretched into unrecognizable shapes.

When I compared a photo of the painting to “The Rain in Spain,” however, I could see the shapes of Goya’s bodies and rifles in Nguyen’s wall piece. If nothing else, it compelled me to return to the Goya, one of the greatest paintings of the 19th century.

Dogg Days is a challenging exhibit, one that asks viewers to devote some time in contemplating its features. It reveals itself slowly, but the payoff is considerable.