TONY BERLANT takes TV trays, cookie tins, wastebaskets, signs and other objects made of metal, cuts them apart and affixes the resulting strips and curves to flat surfaces or to wood “houses” using brads. In his latest show, Berlant combines the metal pieces, intrinsically cold and hard, into such colorful designs — composed of wavy horizontal lines and concentric circles — that the results resemble the most fluid, energetically painted canvases. Yet, Berlant does not want us to mistake these works for paintings. He leaves the brads prominently in view rather than hiding them with paint. Some pieces are quite realistic; “Point Dume No. 26,” for example, suggests the water and beaches of California, where Berlant lives. “Me” looks like an enlarged thumb print. Others like “Eleven Nights in Shanghai” reflect the grids of the Native American blankets Berlant collects. And some, like “Rio,” exist purely on their own, without making reference to anything other than a terrific cacophony of color and movement, though some viewers may associate “Rio” with the lively Brazilian city. At Klein Art Works, 400 N. Morgan St., through Nov. 15.
The first-time exhibit of the paintings of German-born Otto Upts demonstrates why some think that the best outsider art should be judged within the context of art as a whole rather than as work that has been produced by untrained eyes and hands. Upts immigrated to the United States in 1857 when he was 9 years old and lived and worked most of his life in Magnolia, Ill., a small farming community near Peoria. Gallery owner Carl Hammer, who came upon Upts’ work at an auction, says that Upts probably did not begin painting until the turn of the century, continuing until his death in 1933. Unfortunately, Upts’ relatives did not save all his work and may have burned a large quantity of it. The 28 works on view, all portraits in a variety of media atop glass or corrugated cardboard and some two-sided, reflect two primary subjects — religion and politics — but one common thread — a respect for heroic figures. Jesus, Mary, Napoleon, George Washington, Abraham Lincoln, William Taft and Franklin Roosevelt — all are portrayed straight-on or in profile. Some look as though they were painted from photographs. Some are placed atop majestic stallions or stand on pedestals or gravestones. Upts’ use of clear, crisp colors against black backgrounds adds to his no-nonsense style and to the aura of dignity he gives his heroic subjects. A few canvases show that he also respected the everyday folk about him. Two sweet young women are shown in separate portraits: one girl has long hair, a bow and a great smile; the other’s hair is adorned with exuberantly painted fresh flowers. Upts also built and decorated his painted wood frames, although these unfortunately were destroyed by rodents and age. At Carl Hammer Gallery, 200 W. Superior St., through Nov. 15.
Truman Lowe considers himself a sculptor, but such a description is too limiting for this Wisconsin artist who recently installed a sculpture at the White House. A member of the Winnebago tribe who teaches at the University of Wisconsin, Lowe presents elegant, deftly manipulated forms and surfaces using materials native to his landscape. The two largest, most powerful works on view are lean, forceful sculptures fashioned from pine and willow. One, titled “Feather Fence,” also incorporates feathers and cloth. Many of the other works are less delicate but in the same vein — wood wall sculptures painted to suggest baskets atop pedestals; three-dimensional feather bags in wood that sit atop contemporary unpainted pedestals; graphite and pastel drawings of abstracted landscapes; and pigment, leather and wood reliefs that interpret feather bags. A canoe, in its finished state, normally is perceived as an enclosed mode of transport, but Lowe’s “Canoe Form-Thunder Bay,” shows us three preliminary open stages, one with stark, bent forms. His fence works so well because Lowe has leaned it against the gallery wall to suggest the contrast between open and enclosed. In one wall relief, “Feather Pouch, Series 1,” the bag incorporates cloth at its top, which is contrasted with a painted outline in white for the rest of the bag, all set against a blue field. At Jan Cicero Gallery, 221 W. Erie St., until Nov. 29.