Tate is the word that we've heard (part II)

Last night I headed off to the Left Coast again, and I am now looking at the Pacific, but hope to be back in time for Tim Tate's opening of his third solo show with us. The opening is Friday, November 11, 2005 at Fraser Bethesda.

This show comes in the wake of two sold out earlier solo shows in 2003 in Georgetown and 2004 in Bethesda, as well as the immensely successful "Compelled by Content" show that Tate curated for us.

And in my obviously biased opinion, this promises to be the best exhibition yet by one of Washington's best-known artists and a leading and very involved member of our arts community.

Tate has absolutely been driven in creating new work for his show, probably because he's under extreme pressure as he's getting kicked out of the spaces that the Washington Glass School (of which Tate is the co-director) occupies. The School is being kicked out as part of the eminent domain scam that allows the city to kick out the people that they attracted to the neighborhood a few years ago, but that they now need to build a stadium for the Nats.

And Tate, who hates being called a "glass artist," nonetheless continues to break new ground (and a lot of glass in the process) by continuing to add and expand a new vocabulary to the glass genre: A vocabulary made of a narrative content that requires an understanding of what the artist wants to express.

In doing so, Tate has absolutely changed and refined his art and vision, a change that was first kindled by the death of his mother, which he expressed by an obsessive desire to create small, beautiful glass hearts, which have nothing to do with religion, but childhood memories of JFK imagery in his home and a receptacle for memory.

In another new series of glass slices that project from the walls, encased in steel, Tate offers us Cryptologic clues to events, influences, social and political statements, as well as the ever-present dialogue about disease and recovery.

Tate, who is HIV-positive, thus continues to incorporate his daily issue with HIV and AIDS into these works, some of which represent his own ideas of surviving the disease. In the wall glass slices, the narrative panels and the reliquaries, are hidden clues and figures that offer a constant desire for a cure that refuses to come into focus.

Don't miss this show. The opening reception is Friday, November 11 from 6-9PM at Fraser Bethesda.