Review By Fran Watson

"Shush! I want to tell you a story," admonishes the ink jet image on a cloth scrim before the doorway of Barbara Houghton's The Journey installation in Northern Kentucky University's Third Floor Gallery. As scrims are intended to do, it is a translucent screen, made opaque by the light before it and transparent when viewed from behind. The scrim functions to softly shield the harsh truth of a life as the artist alludes to it through mixed media and atmosphere.There really is no need to urge silence here. Everyone who enters becomes quietly curious, peering around corners and walking softly. Voices are lowered and paces slowed. There is something about this black room, starkly lit in corners, accompanied by an ominous ancient ticking of passing time, that prompts introspective participation. The space and its artifacts seem so honest, so real, that visitors are loath to intrude upon its contained presence.

This shadowy room smells of cinnamon, according to the literature available at the door, but to me it more resembles old pipe smoke. Perhaps this is an aroma interchangeable with one's own memories. This fragrance combined with unrelenting earth tones, warm and old, feels familiarly comfortable, as do the images on triangular protuberances. Computer manipulated images of Houghton's life are arranged, woven, overprinted and underprinted, some photographs, some published icons, iced with looping calligraphy and textures, and elegantly transformed into the artist's own message.

On the other side of these triangles, the story continues with mini-installations of references to Houghton's life, captioned by philosophic tidbits written on panels of cloth. Seen "through a mirror darkly," these veils lend an air of mystery, or memory, to seemingly unconnected arrangements of objects not too obscure to be interpreted by the visitor.

Tools play a part in both the digital prints and the objects. The ghostly background of marked time is produced by a metronome included in an arrangement There are measuring tools, calipers, geometric shapes mixed in with maps of land and sky, all earthly implements, opposed to conjecture.

A grouping behind the print, "New Territory," features a ferocious nun, mouth open in some aggressive diatribe, backed by other religious references, such as a larger-than-life hand, pierced by stigmata and topped with statues of Mary in clouds tipped with flames. Yet the very next platform of figures pertains to the occult, with a palmist's illustration for interpreting the hands.

This same contradictory procession of beliefs exists throughout. Mention of deeply religious events ("How Did This Happen, Part 1," just inside the door, a collage of childhood memories and Houghton in first communion finery. Another veil?) are interspersed with wondering speculation about more exotic explanations of life, culminating in the huge tiled print on the back wall, "Return to Life."

Bewilderment is exhibited in the mixture of organized religious references and the frank interest in alternative beliefs and superstitions. Houghton offers viewers a variety of conclusions, both about her and themselves. The items concerned with measurement may easily take a purely scientific approach to existence, shaken with innocent doubts.

Rather than self-absorbed, though, one feels surprisingly involved with The Journey. Both exotic and prosaic indications are familiar to everyone. All decisions are hovering out there in the future: This room is merely a record of the known. There is a second entrance to the room, painted black so as to appear as just another wall. This, too, may be a symbol of endings or new beginnings. The longer one examines the installation, the more possibilities arise.

However, even a short visit elicits positive reactions. Said visiting graphics design senior, Theresa Hils, "It seems very personal. As if she's had time to think about where she's been ... and where she's going." An apt description of any life's journey.

E-mail Fran Watson

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