“David Curcio: The Point of the Needle” inaugurates the Dissident Museum, the curatorial arm of Dissident Muse. Dissident Muse is an artist-driven project which recognizes that in the digital age, the borders between publishing, exhibition, and education are becoming increasingly porous. At the same time, we’re witnessing a breakdown in which the institutions, most pointedly the museums and universities, are losing their credibility as entities capable of honoring and preserving culture. Thirdly, criticism is foundering as the economics of journalism worsen and the stewards and leaders of the field forfeit their standards, aesthetic, moral, and otherwise—or are marginalized for maintaining them. Thus it falls to artists more and more to do the larger work of culture for themselves and for each other.
The Dissident Museum will emphasize artists who, for whatever reason, are undervalued in the current cultural climate. As I wrote recently for the Foundation Against Intolerance and Racism, many artists are finding themselves increasingly disenfranchised because who they are and what they make do not promote institutional ideology. They are creating, instead, out of inner need. This is the only compelling reason to produce art, and consequently, the institutions decreasingly represent the vitality that we want from art.
David’s case is of interest because he’s working with images of masculinity and violence—rodeo clowns, Yakuza movies, pugilists—in embroidery and appliqué. He’s sewing them. The mediums, stereotypical examples of women’s work, strain tonally against the subjects. David disdains the possibility of irony, so the viewer is left with an exhilarating tension between comfort and adventure.
This tension has proven too much for the artistic priors of Boston. David tells the story below. Suffice it to say that David’s defiance of expectations regarding what kind of person should make what kind of art is partly why his works are compelling.
Another reason is that they’re technically intriguing. David’s background in printmaking gives him a keen sense of how to organize intractable blocks of color into a compositional whole. It comes through even in the roughness of the appliqués, which are not (nor were they meant to be) carefully tailored. Printmakers often choose their media for being resistant and fiddly—it makes the result that much more a source of pride. David’s work, especially the embroideries, conveys a similar sense of toughness despite the literal softness of the materials, and not just because the subjects are enjoying cigarettes, detonating oil rigs, or hitting each other.
The point of the needle, the reason for the provocation, is that the vitality of David’s work justifies its difficulty.
This exhibition was made possible by a FAIR in the Arts Grant from the Foundation Against Intolerance and Racism, and I acknowledge them with all my respect and gratitude.
The theme of masculinity in these works arose on the heels of another series of women depicted in poses that combine power, threat, and their private amusement, frequently rendered bottomless with pubic hair on full display, as embroidered quilts. Most of the buyers of these works have been women.
A planned exhibition of that series caused some consternation. The gallery owner, though willing to move forward with the show, informed me that his student assistants were appalled and asked that I write a lengthy statement to justify the work. Assuming that the majority of minds—largley among younger viewers—were already made up and likely unamenable to open discussion, I opted to pull out altogether.
I don’t deny a degree of intentional boundary-pushing in a city known for safe, decorative subject matter, though I avoid the merely exploitative. Art nevertheless should be free to challenge viewers, and many contemporary viewers are not looking for a challenge.
The present images of men evolved not as expiation for their predecessors, but from an exploration of the fiber arts mediums that had long been folded into my practice. But the die was cast. My work was once well received, but I was branded “edgy” among curators who hadn’t even seen the work. Safe and decorative were the new standards, and while my work was ostensibly respected, it was no longer shown. It was subsequently pulled from a fiber arts survey with the excuse that it clashed with the show’s overall palette. The work in question was the appliqués depicting boxers, pictured here. Out of the two dozen participating artists, only one was male. As a man working in fiber arts, I’ve endured comments that, were the roles reversed, would see me run out of town. Praised on many occasions for working in a “feminine” medium, I’ve often considered how such praise would go over were I to comment on the bravery of female painters or sculptors for working in a “hard” medium.
The shift of subject from women to men carries no significance. A theme runs its course; a new one takes hold. There is no overt message behind the present work, nor is there irony in depicting tough guys in mediums traditionally regarded as feminine. Various themes attract me, and become a personal challenge: how can I bring this imagery to life using the mediums at hand?
David Curcio received his MFA in Printmaking from Pratt Institute in 2001. He taught college abroad for several years and helped to open two print studios: one in Rome and one for Burlington City Arts in Burlington, VT, where he served as curatorial director of works on paper. He has had numerous artist residencies, including the Nagasawa printmaking program in Japan, where he studied Japanese woodblock printing. From 2007-2023 he opened a private etching studio/publishing house, Ningyo Editions in Watertown, MA, which he ran until 2023. From 2009-2012 he was the proprietor of Ningyo Gallery, where he showed a variety of work and artists, including published collaborative prints by local artists. His work has appeared in Art in Print Magazine as well as Japanese Woodblock Printing by April Volmer. He currently lives in Salem, MA. His website is davidcurcio.com.
Works are available, reach out to David Curcio via his website.
All images are copyright David Curcio.
Contact Franklin Einspruch regarding Dissident Muse at dissidentmuse@proton.me.
This exhibition was made possible thanks to a grant from FAIR in the Arts at the Foundation Against Intolerance and Racism.