POP CULTURE

Jensen and Bomar make a successful yet unlikely pair for revitalizing Denver's pop art scene.

One is soft spoken and demure, the other is outgoing and extravagant. One is into fashion and the other is into books. One is 19, the other graduated from college in 1979, has a wife and three Chihuahuas. It sounds like these two would have nothing in common, but Jack Jensen and Danica Bomar share a studio, ideas and an attitude. They have teamed up their artistic efforts and energy to produce lively and entertaining pop art shows.

This unlikely pair met while working in the same neighborhood. Jensen manages Ichabod's Books on Broadway, and Bomar is only a few doors down at American Vogue.

"He started putting paintings in our windows and I liked his work," Bomar said. "When he saw one of my paintings, Jack asked if I would like to display some of them at his upcoming show."

"Our artwork is very complimentary," Jensen said. "We both like working with bold colors and fun themes."

That was in August at a show called Bad Health 2000 at Bump & Grind at 439 E. 17th Avenue. The show sold out a week before the exhibit opening, Jensen said.

"He's the only one who has sold out a show here; we had nothing left to take down," said Cliff Trubowitz, owner of the Bump and Grind. "I actually bought a piece and other employees bought some as well."

Since then, the two have been asked to display their work at several other shows and locations, including shows at Buzz Cafe, Rebis Gallery and Soulsociety. For each show, Jensen and Bomar like to come up with an eye-catching theme and produce all new artwork.

These exhibit openings are not your typical stuffy art shows either, Jensen said. There is music and sometimes even a fashion show.

"Some of my openings have been compared to going to a six-year-old's birthday party because there's party favors and streamers and toys," Jensen said. "I want you to have a great time there, whether it's the food, whether you come to see the artwork, whether you come to see me, I just want you to have fun. You'll remember that night and every other opening after that will be boring."

"We get all dressed up which is a lot of fun. We get out the wigs, and his wife dresses up with us, too," Bomar said. "Our dream is to have go-go girls dancing at our shows."

Although there is a wide age gap between these two artists, it never seems to come into play.

"He's just like a little kid. He's a lot older but it feels like we are the same age," Bomar said. The two artists also share the same attitude that seems to come out in their artwork. "As soon as I was told you can't do that, I would find a way," Jensen said. "I wasn't trying to do it to be spiteful, but it was more to prove to myself that I could do it. I had to try."

Bomar expressed similar values when she talked about the influence of her parents. "My dad is great. He teaches me to work on cars and to do things that normally girls aren't supposed to do," she said. "He teaches me that women aren't helpless and that I can do whatever I want."

Both Jensen and Bomar said they acquire ideas and inspirations from each other as well as their surroundings.

"When we get together we create things," Bomar said. "We help each other come up with great ideas. Sometimes when I am having a hard time coming up with ideas, I find Jack and we talk about things. Sharing musical interests helps, too."

"There's a new source every day. People, you never know who's going to come in or what they are going to say, what they are going to do. Broadway is a circus itself," Jensen said.

"When I see someone taking something way too seriously, I try to use that as an idea," Bomar said.

Although Bomar is new to gallery openings, Jensen is no stranger to the art scene in Denver. He graduated from Metropolitan State College of Denver in 1979, but his work was banned from the student art show. This banishment encouraged him to start up a gallery with a friend, Phil Bender, who was also banned from the show. This gave them an opportunity to display the art that no one else would show and the things that they wanted to paint

The gallery was named Pirate and is still owned by Bender. Jensen split away from Pirate in February 1981 to start his own Mutiny, which consists of Jensen right now. "Danica could consider herself a Mutiny artist, as well if she wants to," Jensen said.

Jensen has done silk screening, silversmith work, and also was a chef at the Brown Palace for a while. He also has artwork all over the world including, Budapest, Berlin, Barcelona and Tokyo. Jensen is having a solo show at Bump & Grind on February 9 titled 20 Years of Mutiny Art.

Along with producing his own gallery shows and working at Ichabod's, he volunteers at Grant Avenue Street Reach to help feed the homeless. He also likes to collect and restore Volkswagen beetles.

Bomar is a student at Arapahoe Community College and has enjoyed the opportunity to work with Jensen at such a young age.

"Everything just seemed to fall into place," Bomar said. "It has been a great experience working with Jack, especially at my age, to be surrounded by so many people in the art field."

--Sarah Carney

REDECORATING BEAUTY
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Ron Judish Fine Arts

Ron Judish Fine Arts, at 1617 Wazee Street., is currently showing the works of sculptor Emmett Culligan, painter Jeff Wenzel, and photographer Dan Ragland. Judish represents Culligan and Wenzel, while Ragland is a newcomer to the gallery.

Culligan's sculptures and Wenzel's paintings work together, said Judish, because there is "something almost symbiotic between the two bodies of work; they balance without stepping on each other's toes." Each artist's work relieves the eye after viewing the other: Culligan's sculptures contain strong, simple forms, while Wenzel's paintings are complicated and edgy.

Ironically, the two bodies cramp each other in a hall where two of the artists' most emblematic pieces share space. One of Wenzel's most intricate paintings, Double-A Gas, lacks the space required to view it fully, as does Culligan's untitled, massive sculpture in sandstone, stainless steel, and Ryolite. The sculpture consists of a curved metal bar connecting a leaning sandstone block and a rough ball in a massive, sturdy balancing act. It is, as Culligan said of his work, a "monumental statement of vitality," and needs room to strike its own chord.

Double-A Gas, a large painting in acrylic, oil stick, graphite, and paper on wood, conveys a sort of urban, graffiti-machine sensibility in rough circles within circles, squares and scratches in reds, browns, yellows, and grays. It's difficult to look at, but that's part of the idea. Said Wenzel: "It's a combination of some really disparate elements, and forms a new thing out of very different parts."

His paintings in general react against an overly "special"--and conventionally pretty--quality that he's felt "art for the market" sometimes displays.

"I like a piece that's a little ugly on first glance," he said. "One that challenges me, that shows me something I haven't seen before. The stuff in Double-A Gas, it doesn't make sense--but for me, at least it makes a new sense."

Accordingly, Wenzel uses not only fine art materials, but also house paints and other industrial materials in creating his paintings. While painting, he follows a pattern established during his early work with ceramics: "destroy, rip, scrub, paint over and leave the evidence." Unlike ceramics, he pointed out, additions to and subtractions from a painting show up immediately.

The final result often has fascinating texture, as in Cetus, a strangely peaceful painting whose energy nonetheless relentlessly rises to the upper left corner. Layers of rounded, eroded white paint near the center recall old public-school walls, accidentally beautiful through neglect.

Dan Ragland's photographs, in a room of their own, dwell on the human form and the confusing nature of human relations. In his Opera series, two men grapple and kiss, showing painful faces and crunched necks. They could be lovers, wrestlers, or hunter and sexual prey. Tenderness is hard to gauge. Their skin is luminous. Ragland's technique of manipulating the photos with abrasives and pigments transfixes and deepens the images, while placing a veil between the work and the viewer.
--Kate Williamson