Rhonda Holberton. Knights of the Sky (2015); digital video projection; 3:24. Courtesy of City Limits Gallery.

A chilly, overcast afternoon seemed like the perfect conditions for experiencing Cold Storage, the dual exhibitions of artists James Cordas and Rhonda Holberton. The gallery resonates with stillness as the slow, measured pace of the video projections and an even-toned white noise settle over the room. The sobriety of the atmosphere, however, masks the underlying tensions in the exhibition’s design.

With Holberton occupying the back wall with the hypnotic three-minute video projection Knights of the Sky (2015), and Cordas on the perimeter, a tug-of-war for the gallery’s limited floor space ensues. Sharing a space the size of City Limits would be a challenge to anyone, but Cordas and Holberton make unlikely bedfellows and feel somewhat disconnected. Though both artists’ showings are strong and compelling in their own right, it is not immediately obvious how they are meant to fit together—or if they even are. For example, the press release for Cold Storage features a short statement about the show written collaboratively between “the artists.” However, the artists referred to here are not Cordas and Holberton, but Cordas and the poet James Gendron, a collaborative partner of Cordas’s for one of the works in the show, Sexual Boat (Sex Boats). While the poem/artist statement allows for a subtler and more complex read of the collaboration between Cordas and Holberton, it also runs the risk of obscuring a definitive thread that holds the show together.

Holberton’s presence in the show is immediately striking and commanding. In addition to claiming the back wall with her expansive projection, Holberton’s polyurethane sculptures of “fallen pixels” are separated prominently around the room like the points of a triangle, giving the artist equal weight and equal measure in the room. Her sculpture N-O U-N-R-E-A-L T-H-I-N-G E-X-I-S-T-S (2015), of a clenched fist raised high atop a white plinth, stands out and stands against the cold, hard gray of Cordas’ steel cage in A Mason Jar Full of Wasps. Cordas juxtaposes perforated images of dark silhouettes and colorful flowers, video screens and steel panels, throughout his portion of the show, engaging in a dialogue of contradictions more with his own work than with Holberton’s.

Where the two do seem to meet is in the contested spaces of digital and analog, closeness and distance. While Holberton renders digitized data into physical objects with Fallen Pixels (2015), Cordas explores this terrain through works like Chair (2015), which combines a vertical LED screen and hardcover book in one. More than just the space between objects, the many surfaces employed in each’s work keep one at a constant distance—Knights of the Sky being uninhabitable, and Cordas’ ultrachrome mirrors, overlaid with vinyl screens, making one’s reflection always just out of reach.

Cold Storage: James Cordas and Rhonda Holberton is on view at City Limits Gallery in Oakland through December 19, 2015.

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Elena Gross is a writer currently pursuing a Master’s Degree in Visual & Critical Studies from California College of the Arts. She lives and works in the Bay Area and her writing focuses on gender, race, and sexuality in contemporary visual culture.

James Cordas. a, dog I’m holding undermy arm with Its head pointed behind me; installation view.

James Cordas’ exhibition a, dog I’m holding undermy arm with Its head pointed behind me transforms Et al. Gallery into an extrasensory space. With the use of poetry, lighting installation, and performance, Cordas addresses the apprehensions of daily existence and volatile occurrences within our culture.

Entering the space, the viewer is physically immersed in Cordas’ poetry through his work 8 poems (2015). Through a custom analog circuit, the show is illuminated in a synthesized language of poetry. The circuit creates a blockade from the flow of electiricty to the fluorescent lights until sound amplitude is present. Cordas describes it as “light coming from a mouth every time someone wants to make a sound.” The light is abrupt and repetitive, so much so that the gallery issued a photosensitive epilepsy warning as part of the press release. Part comical, part serious, this warning and the poetic light installation set the tone for what the viewer will experience.

Full Spectrum Suburban House Fire (2015) is installed at the back wall. Bright rainbow and bubblegum colors draw the viewer into the uncomfortable space. A rainbow image of a two-story home burns ruthlessly. With a mirror as the substrate, the viewer’s reflection becomes one with the burning house, confronting viewers with the uncomfortable fact of their own mortality.

Cordas also uses a mirror in Sharp Park (2015). Cordas presents the idyllic and well-recognized “Bliss” Windows XP background. Overlaying the blue skies and rolling hills are sharp objects and medical supplies. The juxtaposition of relaxing and recognizable imagery with items that evoke anxiety and fear speaks to the volatile, looming occurrences that could happen at any moment in our lives. We are reminded of the instances and situtations that are out of our control, such as illness or disaster. The viewer’s own reflection in the mirror further highlights this anxiety.

Performed on the opening night, Contemplative Cop (8ft. Cop) further fueled anxieties of contemporary existence within a culture of violence. A large actor wearing a police-grade tactical outfit, including a riot shield, baton, and helmet, sat alone on a blood-red tree stump, staring into a mirror for the duration of the opening. While the officer was the main component of this piece, the viewers existed within the piece as well, seeing their own reflections in the mirror. Evoking the recent protests galvanized by the deaths of Michael Brown and Eric Garner, Contemplative Cop was timely and relevant. Cordas’ work demanded that the audience be introspective along with the cop and consider their own role in a society that perpetuates violence. Overall, Cordas successfully creates an experience that addresses the insecurities and fears that intersect with the banalities of human existence, in order to allow for a larger view of reality.

James Cordas: a, dog I’m holding undermy arm with Its head pointed behind me is on view at Et al. Gallery in San Francisco through March 28, 2015.

Alex Rojas is a writer currently based in San Francisco. She is pursuing her BA in Art History/Arts Management and is particularly interested in contemporary art that engages with female identity and gender relations.