3 D and Conceptual Members' Show at the Bermuda Society of Arts' Onions Gallery and The Art of Christopher M. Grimes at the Bermuda Society of Arts' Edinburgh Gallery

The Bermuda Society of Arts ends what has been on the whole a spectacularly successful year not with a bang, but with a whimper. Perhaps because it has fallen into the National Gallery's Biennial trap of trying to persuade its members to turn out art that they don't ordinarily have any truck with, this exhibition, '3 D and Conceptual Members' Show', is both incoherent and very thin on the ground.My colleague Gareth Finighan at another publication made the error of describing the Biennial as a "snapshot" of what Bermuda's artists are producing today. That is, in fact, only BNG promotional hype. A visit to this show will rapidly disabuse him of his snapshot notion. People are willing to produce the kind of stuff that finds its way into the Biennial only because to have their work in a prestigious sounding show looks good on subsequent résumés. Otherwise there is precious little to be found in Bermuda — as this show makes all too bleakly obvious.

Insofar as this show can be said to have quality, it is in the 3 D side of it. The so-called conceptual art is so much trash. The centre of the floor is covered with a small forest of dried weeds supporting a lot of dead leaves. In the best Biblical tradition it has neither form nor void. It's ugly and just gets in the way. The same artist has four small, whimsical pieces made up of white painted twigs and slashed canvas that are, at least, light and refreshing.

The only other piece of conceptual "art" is an old TV set covered with diatribes against evils of television as perceived by the perpetrator. It is sensibly hidden away in a walled off corner. Even the artist seems sufficiently embarrassed by his or her efforts to hide behind a pseudonym.

Half the rest of the show is made up of the kind of jewellery that is more appropriately located in a shop than an art gallery.

Fortunately there are some redeeming works. An artist who calls himself Amir X works in the African tradition and produces three-dimensional work of first rate technical quality. The repetitive nature of some of the compositions — which are mainly framed despite their dimensional nature — I found to verge on the tedious, but other works, notably Bambura Alive were fiercely alive and thoroughly dramatic.

The latter work is of three stylised horses' heads in a group on the wall.

Guru Mask<$> is again in the African tradition and gains dramatic intensity by its mounting in a deep dimensional frame. Two very small bronzes Musician #1 <$>& 2, similarly mounted, also attract attention.

Three of Elizabeth Trott's inimitable, but all too infrequent bronzes also lift the show out of its doldrums. Chillin' is of a dog rolling on its back and is similar to one that has been in the Government House collection for many years. Still I Rise Angel<$> — a girl playing a guitar — has all the life, compassion and humour I associate with Ms Trott's work while Little Boy Dancing is an object lesson in turning a knowledge of anatomy and balance to artistic advantage. I wish Ms. Trott would produce more of these delightful little bronzes.

Three resin works by Nancy Hutchings-Valentine illuminate their end of the gallery with warm, lucent colour. Barely dimensional enough to qualify, they nevertheless produce an oasis of talent in an otherwise pretty deadly show.

On your way out don't miss the single work by Sonia Walter. Old City<$> is a deeply framed dimensional representation of the old City of Jerusalem and is executed with competence as well as charm.

* * *

In the adjacent Edinburgh Gallery is a show hopefully titled The Art of Christopher M. Grimes<$>. Mr. Grimes, however, isn't really an artist so much as a copyist. He is the victim of the dead hand of the past in that almost his entire body of work is taken from old postcards and photographs.

Of the same kind of interest to antiquarians as were the photographic restorations of Mark Emmerson, his work seems to have sold briskly. Nine of them had been sold before I visited the show last Saturday morning as opposed to only three in the larger gallery. They are nevertheless of much greater antiquarian than of artistic interest. His style is stiff and laboured and where a greater talent might have infused the original postcards and photographs with a breath of new life, Mr. Grimes does not.

The same stiff, wooden quality extends to most of his portraits. I would urge him to remember the way he painted the tangle of curls in the portrait of Daniel. That had more life than all the other portraits together. There is a similar, more pleasing result in the charming portrait of the dog Max.

When all is said and done, these shows might not represent the most refreshing of breaks from the hard grind of Christmas shopping.