Anne Daems' Parsley and Pearls

(originally published 6/30/08 on ArtSlant.com)

At first glance, Anne Daems’ exhibition at Nicole Klagsbrun Gallery looks almost like a group show. Three grainy photographs are hung immediately to the left of the entrance; they each depict a single, young, attractive person on the streets of New York, from Daems’ series "72 girls (and some boys) that could be models". Then, rather abruptly, is a long stretch of works from "Scribbles for Drawings Make New Drawings". These look a lot like someone photographed the pen scratch pads at art supply stores, and in fact they are prints of Daems’ color-test doodles. Interspersed with "Scribbles" are more photographs from "72 girls"; four small graphite drawings with text; and finally a 35-minute video titled "My father’s garden".

Unfortunately, most of the show is dedicated to the "Scribbles" work. Daems is an artist interested small moments, often finding poetry in them. It’s understandable to extend this purview to her doodle pads, but ultimately it’s overly precious. Not every art mark is worth preserving.

Daems’ other drawings—"The woman had always some parsley in her bosom" (2006), "Kenneth’s beauty spots" (2007), "2 rubber bands to hold her stockings" (2005-6), and "A woman with high heels came back from the park" (2008)—however, are lovely; bemused studies rendered in simple lines with a smattering of color and typewritten text. They’re strange and infectious and I could look at a hundred of them.

"72 girls" (2007) doesn’t add anything to the catalogue of lonely moments captured by photographers on the streets of New York; instead they demonstrate an intense need on Daems’ part to crawl inside the minds of these beautiful creatures (it’s a much more subjective series than, say, Philip-Lorca diCorcia’s "Heads"). Daems exhibits the same inquisitiveness with extended close-ups of children’s faces in "My father’s garden" (2008). Because these lingering takes happen over a span of time, they are more successful than the still photographs in making us privy to her subjects’ inner dialogue.

"My father’s garden", shown in several parts, dovetails all of Daems’ interests: simple rituals (there are quiet sequences of a Japanese tea ceremony, a man patching holes in a tree, and a woman doing laundry), youth (the aforementioned meditations on children’s faces), and small absurdities (a balloon decorated with pigtails and a face slowly whirling in front of a window). "My father’s garden" yields what the disparate elements of the rest of the exhibition do not—inspired tropes that reflect back solidly on Daems’ position as fascinated observer.