Shirley Tse’s Polymathicstyrene, an installation of carved light blue polystyrene, wrapped around the room, extending from the gallery walls to form a kind of running countertop. Seen here in its second incarnation (the first, twice this size, was in Los Angeles last year), the work stands a few inches away from the wall, a hovering 18-inch-deep, 21/2-inch-thick shelf resting on polystyrene supports. The modular installation consists of interlocking sections, which, for the most part, range from 2 to 4 feet long, cut from large sheets of the mass-produced plastic.

The work seems, at first glance, deceptively simple; in fact, it offers many layers of references—both cultural and art-historical—that makes for a rich and engaging work. Tse cannily uses industrial matter to make objects quite distinct from such precedents as Mario Merz’s haphazardly clamped-together Arte Povera igloos or Donald Judd’s insistently repeated Minimalist forms. In the title, Tse combines the name of the material with the word polymath, linguistically endowing her polystyrene with implications of broad intelligence.

The associations conjured are myriad. The intricately carved sections recall geological formations, such as glaciers, and both ancient and modern structures, from Machu Pichu to the "Star Trek" Enterprise. One segment suggests an industrial landscape reminiscent of areas off the New Jersey Turnpike: another recalls electronic circuitry, and yet another reads as a pattern of ice and snow melted by rivulets of water. The polystyrene supports themselves suggest hybrid rococo buttresses. These fantastic, natural and man-made references are galvanizing, drawing one into an engrossing alternate world that oscillates between macro- and microscopic views of the universe.

Tse painstakingly carves the lightweight plastic with a router, creating a structure that can be read as both installation and hewn sculptural object. At the same time, she visually mimics, through formal references, the "terrain" of abstract painting. Some passages evoke the mechanical dynamism of Futurism. Occasionally, two sections form a diptych—or three sections a triptych—that can stand alone, underscoring Tse’s allusions to painting. Ultimately, it is Tse’s meticulous craftsmanship that lifts the sickly baby-blue foam out of a kitsch context and transforms it into a sophisticated monochromatic work.




Detail of Polymathicstyrene
1999-2000, extruded polystyrene,
17 1/2 by 48 by 2 1/2 inches
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Art In America
Lisa Panzera, January, vo.89, no.1, p.119