By JOSEF WOODARD
SANTA BARBARA NEWS-PRESS CORRESPONDENT
It's a blessing and a curse that our fair town is habitually pretty as a postcard. It can be a distraction enough for us mere mortals, trying to get work done and keep nose to assorted grindstones without getting lost in inspiring vistas, tempting diversions and teasing whiffs of la dolce vita. No wonder we have a reputation as an overpriced escapist locale.
But think of the plight of local artists, hounded by the struggle between postcard aesthetics and expressing something personal about a much-ogled subject. Consider the tack taken by Sean Kirkpatrick, whose modest, giddy show of richly hued pastels at Roy takes on the Santa Barbara paradox with a private moxie.
There are separate avenues of interest in Kirkpatrick's work, including a wry intrigue with such quotidian still-life objects as a fork, a computer mouse and high-heeled shoes. He brings a comfortably loose and lanky approach to these objects, as interested in their essence and everyday familiarity as their physical details. A different flavor of irony attends his view of a Louisiana swamp niche, which turns out to be not the real thing but a faux glimpse from the Disneyland ride "Pirates of the Caribbean."
But, self-obsessed as we tend to be here, the pieces which tend to seize our attention reel in local color, with a woozy eye. "The Courthouse, Frontside" literally assumes an alternative angle to this much-eyeballed landmark, peering down the diagonal walkway rather than taken frontally. The scene, eerily streaked with palm tree shadows and with its architecture reduced to looming white cubes against an extra-blue sky, has the look of vaguely surreal, alternative variation on the postcard trade (Kirkpatrick does, in fact, sell his wares on cards, as well as the traditional manner).
Surrealism comes naturally to even a sober depiction of Lotusland's bizarre splendor, and Kirkpatrick's "Residents of Lotusland" builds its case on the convergence of cacti, a red sky, and the arc of a driveway seemingly leading to some mysterious realm. Such is the Lotusland charm, which seems to be a way station to somewhere less aristocratic than it is otherworldly. We also see how the other half lives, with the artist's warm "portrait" of a modest Mediterranean-style house on Figueroa Street.
"Love Me in October" is a clever study in self-limited palette: The bright orange of a gaudy little trailer on a pumpkin patch has a green awning which echoes the greenery tucked into the vegetation.
It may be dangerous, and misguided, to read too much irony into this work. Kirkpatrick clearly wants to bring new visual life to the scenery he deals with, but he's also shamelessly romantic, showing imagery of area beaches -- Hammond's, Solimar, and especially his beloved Gaviota -- often with its waves flecked by sunset colors. The reference point shifts from surfer lore to a kind of Thomas Hart Benton/WPA-era regionalism in the lyrical "Railroad Cuts Through the Ranch" (being Hollister Ranch). Tracks slicing through the embracing arc of a small earthy hill is turned into a quaint metaphor for an innocent and even nostalgic invasion of landscape: better the intrusion of passing trains than destructive bulldozers.
Therein lies the not-so secret rub with Kirkpatrick's work, innately encoded with preservationist ideology. One beach piece is titled, simply and sincerely, "Gaviota Will Save You," like a mantra. A tacit question in this work, like that of the local Oak Group artists and others with a passionate interest in Santa Barbara's future, is: Can Gaviota -- and other remaining natural outposts in the county -- be saved, from the developer's rakish claws? That's an implicit and ongoing concern for artists and citizens here. Maybe the former can help the latter mobilize.
("Works by Sean Kirkpatrick" continues through Saturday at Roy, 7 W. Carrillo St. For more information, call 966-5636.)
WORKS BY SEAN KIRKPATRICK
WHEN: Through Saturday
WHERE: Roy, 7 W. Carillo St.
INFORMATION: 966-5636