Word: cigar
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Dates: during 1980-1989
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...occurs in Hell, the program informs us; yet, the skyline seen through the picture windows is suspiciously familiar, as is the interior. Shock of recognition, presumably: it is, in fact, an executive office, complete with intercom; and here's the Devil, complete with cigar and sinister Texan accent. Ah, the evils of big business. Ernest begins his meteoric rise to the top as overseer to the Seven Deadly Sins (Norma Lindabl), here a collection of painfully unwitty caricatures: Envy, for instance, wears a Yale sweatshirt. Bring on Lee Lacocca instead and spare us the trouble. Well-prepared...
...Among the items unearthed were bits of human bones, a scattering of teeth and what the crews will describe only as "some personal effects." For the untrained, the bone fragments would be hard to recognize, often looking like nothing more than pieces of gray pumice the size of a cigar stub...
Before the crack of Pesky's bat hitting infield practice or the smell of cigar that for some reason is only tolerable here or the damp, salty, Fenway frank or the shove for autographs around the dugout, it's the green that hits you, and your eyes that tell you that you're back...
...coroner once declared when a head was found in a city sewer, "this is the work of a murderer." To quality as a deputy coroner, you had to possess the following: a letter from your ward boss, a wide-brimmed gray fedora, a diamond pinky ring, and a cigar. When somebody died of anything but natural causes, a deputy coroner rushed to the scene. They always rushed, because they were afraid the wagon men might grab a locket. Once there, it was the responsibility of the deputy coroner to have the body sent to the nearest funeral home owned...
Duncan, Clarke and Wackerbath are hardly the first to tie together essentially unrelated works with a single object: Rod Serling and his cigar made a career out of it. The only way to transcend cliche is to go for it: modesty is no virtue in conceptual art. Duncan's mediocre ambition appears in every picture, while the overreaching bravado of hauling two red couches in a van for four years is captured in nearly every shot. Inevitably, the quality comes from the men and not the metaphor